Hoard

“This is the central area, as I described. You see what I mean.”

Kaln came to a stop at the top of the stairs, gesturing across the huge expanse of the lair’s main chamber and looking aside at his companion. The spectral soldier came to parade rest and nodded once.

They were unnerving to look at, all of them. The ghosts were translucent bones and a sickly blue in color; it was odd to see those intangible skeletons through their equally intangible armor. If they were just armored skeletons that would be sufficiently spooky, but each soldier seemed to shift and shimmer when looked at, sometimes showing meat on those bones in varying states of mummification or decay. Occasionally—such as now, when he studied the commander sidelong—Kaln would catch a fleeting glimpse of what might have been a living or at least fully preserved face. Mostly, though, they wouldn’t have been taken for living people even were they not translucent and faintly glowing.

“The corridor directly across from here leads to the front exit; that will be your primary means of ingress and egress. Of the four large side corridors accessible form the lower floor there, those three are off-limits.” He pointed to each of the doorways in question. “They are the personal quarters of my consorts, whose privacy is sacrosanct. You may enter solely if you urgently require the attention of the lady of the apartment in question, and even in such a rare event, touch nothing.”

The commander saluted, a gesture which involved stomping his left foot and placing his left forearm horizontally across his chest. Kaln had never seen the like, but then he knew nothing of the culture from which they had come save that it was centuries extinct.

“Husband, what is this?” Izayaroa demanded in alarm. She was waiting for him across the room near the front entrance, and now straightened up to her full majestic height, staring at Kaln and the ranks of phantasmal soldiers which had poured out of the hoard chamber behind him, sorting themselves swiftly into formation across the raised platform. While Kaln had been speaking, the other dragons had begun emerging from their respective lairs in curiosity, and now he had the presence and attention of all six.

All of them were noticeably perturbed, and Kaln didn’t bother denying to himself that it was rather satisfying to see.

“A moment, please, my lady wife,” he said courteously, bowing to Izayaroa. “I apologize for the delay; you shall have my full attention anon. Now, Commander, that last archway over there leads to the library, and the passage beyond to the ruined city. You may pass through the library, as necessary, but do not touch anything therein or interfere with anyone reading or sleeping there. Everything else accessible via the smaller passages should be maintained as I directed. Don’t interfere with any of the dragons; comply with any orders from Izayaroa, Emeralaphine, or Tiavathyris which do not countermand my own.”

He paused, watching the shifting face of the undead commander, which remained inscrutable. Actually it couldn’t make expressions at all, most of the time; the skeletal form appeared to be the default, with only occasional flickers of mostly-rotted flesh and an actual face so rarely and briefly he could barely get a sense of it. Kaln had already ascertained that the phantom soldiers could not speak, but he seemed to have the ghost’s attention, so he continued.

“I want you to establish security patrols around this mountain. Sweep the Timekeeper city for any threats and dispatch them, but for the rest of the perimeter… At the moment, prioritize discretion above all else. Watch for intruders and bring me warning if we are approached, but if at all possible do not let yourselves be discovered. Our objective is to conceal my presence and the demise of Atraximos the Dread as long as possible. Inevitably the world will learn of it, and then we will move to a more defensive posture, but until then, discretion above all else. Report to me if any intrusion is detected. In my absence, report to and seek orders from my consorts. Tiavathyris will take charge of any military matters, Emeralaphine of magical threats, and Izayaroa in the event that diplomacy is called for.”

He made sure to point to each of them so the ghosts would know who was who. The commander saluted again.

The dragons stared, aghast.

“In addition to defense, you will be in charge of facilities maintenance. I want this…all of this…cleaned up. You will need to scout for a suitable disposal area for this accumulation of bones. Do not use the city for that, both because it would be an archaeological travesty and because hauling this detritus through the library will not be acceptable. Once you’ve secured an appropriate dumping ground, just…clean it.”

“Husband.” Tiavathyris stepped carefully forward, her tone incredulous as she stared at the ranks of undead soldiers behind Kaln. “You…have unsealed the Scroll of the Phantom Legion. And you are making them clean?”

Kaln kept in mind his social needs here and did not say any of the first several things he wanted to. Instead, he just smiled, courteous and bland as he ever had at unreasonable ministers in the Royal Archives.

“Of course, my lady wife, I would not dream of stepping upon your prerogatives. Obviously, this has been your home far longer than mine. If any of you feel it a point of pride or principle to clean the place yourselves, you may have the first opportunity.”

All the dragons except Pheneraxa and Izayaroa reared up in almost comical affront at the idea.

“Ahem.” Pheneraxa grinned sardonically. “The human obsession with cleanliness is a bestial adaptation to your species’ mortal frailty. Our constitutions are not so vulnerable to germs and the like.”

The others all nodded in unison, expressions proud.

Dragons. They were so…majestic, awe-inspiring, insufferably smug and oddly juvenile. It was almost like being back in the Archives and dealing with recalcitrant coworkers, except that now he had power—which he needed to carefully not throw around lest he burn bridges he would urgently need to cross in the future. Restraint, understanding, and charm…

“I have only seen three of the five personal chambers in this complex,” he said with a pleasant smile, “but I do note the consistent pattern that all are spotless, even fastidious.”

“They are just as you say, husband,” Emeralaphine sniffed. “Personal chambers. Their condition reflects upon us.”

“Ah,” he replied, nodding and putting on an understanding expression. “I am of course still acquainting myself with the nuances of draconic etiquette. Perhaps you would be so indulgent as to explain, then, why it is not an affront to all our dignity that our home smells like a dockworker’s loincloth boiled in onion soup?”

At that, they all stared, several with their mouths slightly open. After a second, Pheneraxa huffed out soft laugh.

“Ah, I just love how witty he is.”

Vanimax turned an incredulous sneer upon her, which she ignored.

“This is an army of undead soldiers,” Tiavathyris continued as if never interrupted, staring at him. “Cleaning… Ar-Kaln, for centuries that scroll has lain untouched, passing through the hands of multiple owners who knew not to tamper with such power, and the responsibility it represents. This is a tool that could be used to conquer kingdoms, to form an empire!”

“But I don’t want to conquer kingdoms and form an empire,” Kaln said mildly. “I want this place cleaned up. And I don’t see anyone else doing it.”

Vadaralshi’s entire muzzle deformed as she bit down on her lips and ducked her head, shifting subtly out of her mother’s field of view.

“Husband, I fear you don’t…” Tiavatharys’s voice carried rising frustration; she paused mid-sentence to compose herself before continuing. “These were the last surviving legion of the Amaar-Darash Hegemony, cursed to imprisonment in that scroll for abandoning their oath of duty to their homeland in order to save themselves. Their penance is a lifetime of unquestioning service to whosoever breaks the seal, to be released only by that person’s death. But Ar-Kaln, you are a godling. If we do not fail in protecting you, you will live…potentially forever. You may have just condemned the souls of this Legion to an eternity of servitude.”

Well…those details had definitely not been in Atraximos’s meticulous notecards. Had he not known, or just not considered it worth noting? Kaln looked sidelong at the commander of the Phantom Legion, who was… Still standing there at attention. A grinning skull was impassive even if illusory flesh flickered across it now and again.

However…

“I see,” he said aloud. “That’s unfortunate… Or maybe not. For a legion of oathbreakers, that’s likely to be a kinder eternity than whatever they were headed for next. There is also the fact that this apotheosis business seems to involve the development of my own extra-dimensional domain, yes? And many gods use theirs as an afterlife for the souls of their faithful. Depending on how things go, I may be able to offer them that eternal reprieve, after all.”

Kaln turned to directly face the commander, who still stood at attention, inscrutable.

“I’m not going to promise any specific outcome, since it remains to be seen how things will develop and I won’t give my word if I might not be able to keep it. I do promise, however, that I’ll reward faithful and diligent service as well as I am able.”

The commander saluted again. Behind him, so did the entire Legion.

Well, this was turning out to be more complicated than Kaln had thought when he’d gone looking for an artifact to help clean the lair. He’d rummaged around for a broom and now was responsible for the eternal fates of…however many souls, he hadn’t exactly taken a headcount. On the one hand, that responsibility verged on the overwhelming, but on the other, they were apparently in this situation because they had betrayed and abandoned their oaths of service. Kaln was no soldier, but he had been raised as a public servant of his Empress and Empire, and above all, of the people whose labor and taxes supported him. People who counted on him and his fellow agents of the state to keep their nation running and their lives peaceful. To abandon that charge when the need was most dire… Such treason was contemptible almost beyond words. They were already being punished, so he wouldn’t pile any deliberate misery onto them, but it was very hard for him to be sympathetic.

“Izayaroa and I will be departing on an errand and will be gone for several days. Until my return, carry out my orders as best you are able. Dismissed.”

The commander and his troops saluted once more, the single mass stomp of their spectral boots filling the chamber, and then they flowed into motion. After that first salute, their movement was silent as the ghosts drifted over the ground with their feet off it rather than walking. Perhaps for the same reason, it was fast. The commander silently pointed in several directions in sequence, and the Legion separated into squads and proceeded about their objectives, vanishing into each of the smaller side corridors, with the largest detachments moving into the paths through the library and out the front door.

Pheneraxa scrabbled hastily out of the way, stumbling into a drift of bones in her alarm. Izayaroa sidestepped with far more dignity, watching the ghosts flowing past her with a concerned frown.

“You cannot be serious!” Vanimax exclaimed. “You mean to have these…these undead just…underfoot in our home?”

“That is correct,” Kaln said calmly. “If you have any objection to the way I do things, Vanimax, I invite you to raise them with me in a polite manner and at a reasonable volume for indoor conversation, or failing that, to shut up.”

The dragon bristled, arching his neck and wings aggressively and baring teeth.

Kaln stared at him across the expanse of the lair, expressionless.

After two long seconds, Vanimax snorted loudly, then turned and stalked back into Izayaroa’s private chamber.

Tiavathyris cleared her throat. “That aside, husband, I see that you have…equipped yourself. Did you mislead me during our earlier conversation, or are you in fact completely untrained in the use of weapons?”

“Ah, yes.” Kaln dropped one hand to his belt, patting the hilt of the khopesh sword hanging there. “I certainly did not mislead you, my lady wife. I have no martial training whatsoever. And yes, I believe I see where this is going; I do indeed understand the foolishness of carrying weapons one does not know how to use. I selected this one out of the hoard because it is a Rhiva-style sword which will not look incongruous with these clothes, and its enchantment enables an unskilled wielder to use it like a swordsman.”

The green dragon snorted, actually emitting a puff of smoke. “I am familiar with such enchantments. I wonder, husband, if you are able to intuit my opinion of them.”

“That they are a crutch and a shortcut unworthy of a true warrior, whose use will only handicap the development of actual skill?” He smiled at her and patted the sword again. “I don’t disagree, Tiavathyris. In the years to come, I hope to benefit from your guidance and have no need of crutches. However, here and now…I must hobble before I can run. Not that I expect to be in danger, given that I will be in Izayaroa’s company, but it’s always the unexpected that gets you. It seems awfully foolish to own a massive arsenal of enchanted weapons and then walk around helpless and vulnerable.”

“Very well, husband.” To his surprise, she appeared to find this answer satisfactory, even bowing her head to him. “Carelessness I will not abide, but I do not expect to agree with all of your decisions. That you have given the matter serious thought and committed to a sensible plan is all I ask. I wish you good fortune on your errand, Ar-Kaln, and I shall…eagerly await your return.”

Even in her greater reptilian form, there was no mistaking the smoky look she gave him, nor the warm undercurrent in her tone. Kaln kept his smile in place and just nodded to her, not trusting his voice to work without leaking frustration. What was with this hot and cold routine? What the hells did she want from him?

Instead of dealing with her any further, he teleported all the way across the chamber, arriving next to Izayaroa’s feet. Kaln bowed to her even as she swiveled her neck to look down at him.

“My thanks for your patience, lady wife, and utmost apologies for the discourtesy of keeping you waiting. Perhaps the city to which we are going will afford me an opportunity to make it up to you.”

“You owe me no apology, husband,” she demurred, inclining her own head deeply in acknowledgment. “You shall never hear me complain that you prioritize your responsibilities to this household and family. But should you find reason in town to indulge me, I will certainly not say no. Now, hop on and let’s be off.”

He hadn’t done this exactly, but it was a simple extrapolation from tricks he already knew. Kaln focused, and shifted instantly through space, arriving perched astride Izayaroa’s neck just before her shoulders, between two of her back spines.

“You’re going to let him ride you?” Vadaralshi sounded utterly scandalized.

“He already has,” Izayaroa stated, twisting her neck to give Kaln a sidelong smile. “Exceedingly well, I might add.”

Tiavathyris heaved a sigh. “Izayaroa, innuendo is the reverse of most art forms: the oldest and best known examples are the least esteemed, not the most.”

Izayaroa’s pointed face radiated smugness as she lifted her head and turned back to the tunnel entrance. “Speak for yourself; I am a classicist.”

So declaring, she stepped forward.

Keeping astride her was a bit more difficult than Kaln had anticipated; though her gait was smooth, her sheer size meant that even her smallest movements had a lot of back-and-forth that threatened to dislodge him if he didn’t hold on tightly. This was harder than riding a camel, and much harder than riding a horse. He’d never had the opportunity to sit astride an elephant, but he suspected it would be something like that.

They emerged onto the plaza outside the lair, and Izayaroa flared her wings, stretching them to their fullest extent.

“Let us take the opportunity to experiment, husband,” she suggested. “You seem able to control the position of a dragon in physical space. Can you affix yourself to my back while in flight?”

“Hmm…that is an interesting idea.” Kaln frowned in thought, concentrating. When he focused on her, he could feel her—her entire being, not just the smooth scales under his legs. The enormous wellspring of power astride which he was perched resonated deeply with the divine glow inside himself. Kaln could sense them mingling, entwining… He had to nudge it away from a true merging, there was absolutely no telling what that would do. But now that he was concentrating upon it… Yes, it was a question of thinking in relative terms. Not of moving her through space, but keeping his power affixed in space to hers. “Yes… Yes, I believe I can! Let’s try it, anyway. It’s safe enough to experiment, since we know I can teleport to you. If I fall off, I bet I can get right back on before you even have time to rescue me.”

“That is well, husband. I am willing to indulge you to a very great degree, but not for you or anyone will I be put in a bridle and saddle.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he said solemnly, reaching forward to stroke his hand along the black, golden-edged scales before him. “Third date.”

Izayaroa laughed, beat her wings once, and sent them shooting aloft.

It should have been terrifying. It should have been dizzying and disorienting; creatures such as he were simply not meant to soar through the sky.

All Kaln could feel was elation unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Several pumps of her wings brought them above the peak of the mountain, and then above the highest peak in view. She deliberately shot through a cloud—which was extremely cold and left him soaked—and then glided smoothly across the top of it, disturbing white eddies of vapor. They burst out past its leading edge, and the entire scope of the world was laid out before him.

Being now drenched and high in the atmosphere, Kaln should definitely have been miserable to the point of endangering his health. Part of his resilience was undoubtedly godling business, but mostly, he was reveling in the sheer joy.

He spread his arms wide, keeping astride her with only the joining of their power, and let out a whoop of pure exultation. Izayaroa answered him with a roar.

The black dragon and her rider banked and plunged downward; Kaln’s stomach shot upward into his throat, a sensation such as he’d ever experienced and already couldn’t wait to do so again. She leveled out just above the crowns of the pine forest which spread through the valley, then beat her wings to gain altitude as they sailed toward another mountainside. Izayaroa steepened her ascent, keeping close to the nearly-vertical surface of rock, and actually scampered up its highest peak with her claws, using it as a springboard to shoot skyward again.

In the last thirty seconds they had traversed more distance than he could have managed on foot in a day, and that was with a lot of entirely gratuitous swooping about just for the joy of it.

Also…

“Do people live in that valley?” He raised his voice to be heard above the roar of air; it didn’t seem to work, as he could barely make out his own words, but she clearly heard him just fine. Her own voice certainly had no trouble projecting.

“Some few. Its proximity to our home makes it one of the most unpopular residences in the Evervales, save the Cryptlands and Spiders Gorge. Mostly bandits and the like, the sort of people whose presence is not tolerated in more civilized places. Hence my unconcern with occasionally terrifying them.”

“Fair enough!”

“But you touch upon an important point, Kaln.” They were soaring across an unbroken chain of mountain peaks, but up ahead he thought he could see them dropping away into another, perhaps larger valley. “Our plan is to approach civilization, and it will not do to have them alarmed by the arrival of a dragon. I’d rather no one there even suspect one might be in the vicinity. Let us test your limits again! I am going to perform a spell; see if you can discern its nature and perhaps reproduce it.”

“By all means!”

And he could feel it; the magic was like another heartbeat, like a thrum of static through his senses. By concentrating on her he could feel her focusing almost as clearly as if it was his own working. The spell unfolded and took effect, and Izayaroa vanished from view, leaving him seemingly shooting through the sky by himself, straddling the breeze.

He could sense the spell, feel its nature and purpose intuitively; he knew exactly what it did and how he could seize control of it from her. What he did not know was how to construct such a thing from scratch. What a heady, even disturbing feeling, to be able to so effortlessly command powers he didn’t even understand—powers of which she had attained mastery as one should, through effort and skill.

Kaln did not take it away from her, but after a moment of concentration, found just the right angle at which to pull. The magic swelled to cover him as well, sunk in to wrap around him like a blanket.

He also vanished from sight. Somehow that was more eerie than seeing her vanish out from under him, perhaps because his instinctive sense of her told him everything about her presence and position even more clearly than his awareness of his own now-invisible body.

And thus, he could tell when she swiveled her head around to look at him mid-flight, or at least the place where he was.

“Excellent!” she exclaimed. “Your persistent refusal to disappoint is one of your finer points, husband.”

“Well, I’m relieved to be able to show it off! I’m just storing up favor against the day you find out what my cooking is like.”

Izayaroa laughed again, and banked, changing their course so that, now invisible, they crested another ridge and were over a great vale with a city in the distance.

Their next adventure.