Hoard

Kaln stepped carefully onto the platform, testing the effect of its soft surface. Actually, it wasn’t that bad: plenty firm enough to provide good footing, just yielding enough to mitigate injury if one were to fall on it, which was undoubtedly the point. In Rhivkabat, the guard training areas he’d seen were covered in sand; this seemed better.

“I assume my shoes won’t be an issue on the padding,” he said aloud, “since apparently her claws aren’t.”

Vadaralshi had already hopped up alongside him, and now bounced lightly on her talons, grinning. She should have shredded any such material with every step, but the padding seemed unaffected.

“It’s enchanted to the last hell and back,” she explained, hopping back and forth now from one talon to the others. “Most everything in here is, Pants, don’t you worry your little head about it.”

“I actually am a little concerned,” Kaln said. “I seem to be able to control or dismantle enchantments laid by dragons.”

Vadaralshi actually froze, peering at him warily now.

“Does this happen accidentally?” Tiavathyris asked, her own gaze sharpening.

“Not so far,” he said, turning to her. “It takes some concentration. So, no, it probably won’t be a problem. It’s just that all this is new and I don’t have a thorough handle yet on how it all works. I’m trying to be cautious.”

“Wise, and appreciated,” she replied, inclining her head. “Please inform me, husband, if this ability seems to slip out of your control. Otherwise… As Vadaralshi said, I have made heavy use of magic to preserve and enhance many elements of my décor. While I do not display my most valued treasures at the forefront of the collection, as some dragons do, I wish for no disruption of my living space. That, in addition to the customary preference of dragons not to have their belongings tampered with. To be clear, Ar-Kaln, the only thing in here which is yours to touch without express invitation is me.”

What an absolutely fascinating way to phrase that. Kaln forced himself to put the implications aside; despite the intriguing wording, Tiavathyris’s tone and expression conveyed only a stern warning.

“Noted,” he said, inclining his head graciously, “but for the record, unnecessary. I assure you I would never so disrespect you as to rummage through your belongings.”

“Good,” she said with a smile. In his peripheral vision, Vadaralshi grimaced and rolled her eyes. Kaln was starting to feel fatalistic about her; if she was already over a hundred years old, how much longer should he expect her to act like a bratty teenager? This was going to get old real fast. “Then let us begin. Vadaralshi, there should be no need to restrain yourself, but this is also not the time to exercise your full skill. Remember that the objective is to gauge Ar-Kaln’s status and abilities, not for you to show off.”

Vadaralshi didn’t even give him the courtesy of a warning; all he registered was her fiendish grin before she launched herself across the mat at him.

Moving faster than he ever had in his life, Kaln grabbed her by the wrist and flung her over his shoulder and across the room.

She landed upright on her claws, too nimble to be knocked down by a simple throw, but there she stopped a few paces away, frowning at him in consternation. Kaln froze, his brain still catching up to what had just happened.

“Interesting,” Tiavathyris murmured. “Well? Proceed.”

Still frowning, Vadaralshi came at him again, but more carefully this time. Rather than committing to a full-body charge, she danced within range, claws lashing out at him. Kaln should by all rights have been helpless against that, even if her hands weren’t tipped in flesh-ripping talons; her other talons had the same effect on her height as it did the other dragons, and towering over him gave her a greater reach.

And yet, he swatted aside her probing attacks with lightning-quick movements of his own hands, while incongruously stumbling gracelessly backward to regain some space. She denied him this, continuing to press in. Jabbing, swiping, her claws came at him from multiple angles, to no effect each time; what Kaln couldn’t deflect, he dodged with ease.

Vadaralshi was scowling in frustration now. Despite his own inexperience, Kaln did note one difference between her technique and any human fighting he’d ever seen: rather than making fists or using the sides or palms of her hands to hit, she came at him with claws. Apparently dragon martial arts were a thing, or maybe it was something developed by another race with similar anatomy. No human would try to attack with their fingertips this way.

She suddenly changed her entire approach, kicking him for the first time. It did no more good than anything else; Kaln blocked her strike without effort, and the sight of that enormous talon bouncing helplessly off his own bare forearm was downright surreal.

Growling openly now, Vadaralshi lashed out with several more quick kicks. Kaln blocked one, evaded two more, and then when she tried for a distance-closing snap kick right into his center of mass, he grabbed her ankle and spun, again flinging her away.

Again she failed to go down, though this time she had to land in a crouch with one hand on the mat and her tail sticking straight out to regain her balance. At least she was out of range again.

“Enough,” Tiavathyris said quietly.

“He cheated!” Vadaralshi accused, angrily lashing her tail.

“Child, shut up,” her mother said wearily. “You and I will discuss the layered and nuanced stupidity of that statement later, when I am not in the middle of something important. I know we discussed this already, husband, but please indulge me with a reiteration: you are certain you’ve never trained in fighting?”

“I am absolutely certain,” he said. “Also, for context, I have never moved like that before, and I’m still not sure how I did.”

“Hm. So you would describe those movements as…involuntary reactions?”

“That’s a perfect word, yes. I’m sure it was still a laughable display by your standards, but it does seem to have…worked?”

“I, too, have rarely seen anyone move like that,” said Tiavathyris, a faint indentation appearing between her eyebrows. Apparently her frowns were as understated and mysterious as her smiles. “Yes, I could see your overall physical ineptitude, but when deflecting… In a way, that was the ultimate in hand to hand combat, the final perfection toward which the greatest masters only aspire. No technique, no style, no form whatsoever—only movement. Small, perfect movements, enough to accomplish precisely their given task, unexpressed even by the rest of the body to which the moving limb was connected. I do not actually know of any martial artist who has achieved this through their own efforts. I have, however, seen the like a few times. Magical effects which render a person unbeatable in physical combat are incredibly rare, but such things have existed now and then.”

“Wait, so he just automatically wins every fight now?” Vadaralshi protested. “That’s bullshit!”

“I don’t…think so,” Kaln said slowly, frowning himself now. “Emeralaphine is pretty sure all my powers are dragon-focused, and from what I’ve seen firsthand, she’s probably right. So…I think I just can’t lose a fight to a dragon.”

“Equally bullshit!” Vadaralshi complained.

“And difficult to test,” Tiavathyris murmured, “as we have nothing but dragons against whom to test you, husband. I have a feeling that the changes inevitably coming upon our life as a result of your presence will…widen our social circle somewhat. I am not, however, eager to bring more strangers into our home and our business. We must protect these secrets as long as we are able.”

“What about a golem or automaton?” Vadaralshi suggested. “You could probably make something like that, mother. Even if it’s too much finicky magic, I bet Emmy can.”

“Emeralaphine is certainly capable of such a feat, yes, and even I might be if I put my mind to it. But this hypothetical automaton would then be a magical construct created by a dragon, to which, I gather, the same stipulation applies. You are certain, Ar-Kaln, that that’s how it works?”

“Well, it matches everything I’ve been able to test,” said Kaln, and then teleported.

He zipped right over to Vadaralshi and flicked the tip of her nose, then vanished again as she howled and swiped at him in outrage. This time landing in front of Tiavathyris, he gently tapped a fingertip against her lips—a gesture which she permitted with a faint smile and no attempt to stop him. Then he ported again, directly behind Vadaralshi to step lightly on the tip of her tail, and finally over behind Tiavathyris.

She moved with far more speed and poise than her daughter; Kaln arrived to find her already twisted around and with her hand outstretched such that he practically materialized in her grasp. Rather than retaliating or evading, he instead reached up to grasp her open claw and leaned forward, pressing a chaste little kiss to her palm. All of this, again, she permitted with a smile, having clearly demonstrated her ability not to submit to any of it did she not so wish.

Then he teleported one last time, arriving back on the sparring mats at a suitably safe distance from the fuming Vadaralshi.

“It requires a dragon as a point of reference,” Kaln explained. “I can move to a dragon, or away from one. Even behind one, as you just saw. In terms of magical movement… It’s like there’s an invisible line between me and every dragon in my vicinity, extending beyond them. I can teleport to anywhere along that line. But…nowhere else. I can’t just jump around freely wherever I want.”

“Absolutely fascinating,” Tiavathyris mused, studying him with her eyes narrowed in thought. “The options would perforce be more complex than points on a line, presuming that you are able to evade any attack a dragon launched at you, or strike them from any direction—as you must be, for that ability to make the slightest sense. But the focus is clear, and for our purposes that is what matters. Hm…”

She trailed off, frowning at the distance and slowly rubbing her thumb along her fingertips, creating a soft rhythmic clatter of claw on claws. Vadaralshi folded her arms and made a face at Kaln.

His instinct was to leave Tiavathyris alone to think, or whatever else she wanted to do, but standing here with Vadaralshi leering at him was quickly becoming excruciating. He cleared his throat, and then when that got no response, prompted her aloud.

“How, then, would you like to proceed?”

Tiavathyris’s eyes flicked back to him, focusing, and she deliberately relaxed her stance. “First, I must consider. Obviously, actually training you will be difficult… It will take substantial effort to devise a method which will work at all. I must think carefully on the possibilities, and consult with certain…resources. In the meantime, it’s not as if you are unable to train at all, husband. I will devise an exercise routine for you. Now that I have an eye for how well you move, both unassisted and when your powers impel you, I know the majority of what I need to. For the rest…I’ll speak with Emeralaphine about the physical capabilities and needs of a godling. This will be the easier part; it should not take long. Unless some new hiccup emerges, I should have a schedule laid out for you by tomorrow, husband. For now, resume the light exercises you spoke of. Anything sufficient to keep a scribe’s body from decaying should suffice for the short term.”

“Very well, that’s a good idea,” Kaln agreed, nodding. “I’ll find time to do that today—not that that should be difficult, it isn’t as if my schedule is exactly packed. What should I expect in the days to come? Or is it too early to guess?”

“It is early for the specifics, but generally? I will definitely not train you as hard as I would a prospective warrior.” She smiled, her eyes flicking up and down him once. “Both because you seem unlikely to become one—or need to—and because of your unique situation. A true regimen of training that would bring a scribe up to my standards of physical fitness is purposely traumatizing. The entire objective is to break down the mind, the routine, the relationship of the brain to the body, just as it does the muscles so they can grow back bigger. You now have the lifespan that allows us to proceed more slowly, and more importantly, I’m hesitant to subject you to a degree of pain and deprivation that might turn you into something… Something with which I would not want to live.”

“Uh…how worried should I be about that?” Vadaralshi demanded. “Do we need to handle this guy with kid gloves? Cos I’ll tell you right now, I don’t see that working out with the others. Vanimax thinks with his claws and Pheneraxa’s brain is full of snark and pranks.”

“Worry about yourself, daughter,” Tiavathyris ordered, fixing her with a firm stare. “No, we should specifically not handle him with kid gloves, but do not attempt to play with Ar-Kaln as roughly as you would your siblings. We shall all have to find a happy medium, together.”

Well, Kaln suddenly realized, if that was her agenda settled, that still left his own. He didn’t exactly prefer to pursue this with Vadaralshi standing right there, but…best not to leave his intentions unclear, that could be trouble later. The girl could handle seeing a little flirting, and if not, she’d better get used to it.

“I will eagerly look forward to that happy medium, then.”

Tiavathyris’s eyes fixed on him, and he zeroed his own attention in upon her in return, suddenly the hunter with his prey in sight. Kaln stepped forward to the edge of the mats at a slow, controlled pace, keeping his expression equally controlled: warm and just a bit mischievous, that well-practiced smile that was just shy of a smirk. Even his gait he moderated to a rolling amble, grateful (not for the first time today) for Haktria’s vigorous coaching in the art of charisma.

Reaching the edge of the platform, he stopped; it wasn’t tall enough to put his eyes on her level, but less disadvantageous than being on the floor. Kaln bowed to her, holding eye contact and holding that perfect smile, then allowing one corner of his lips to rise a smidge further, warming the sly expression.

“I look forward to a great deal, my lady wife. Without doubt, I am in the best of hands.”

He reached out to gently take her hand again and raise it for a kiss, all the while giving her that smoky look up through his lashes, and ignoring the gagging sounds Vadaralshi made.

Tiavathyris’s mysterious little smile…faded.

A prickle of unease ran through Kaln. What? Did she not like… But that didn’t make sense, she’d been overtly signaling her interest, starting that morning in the bath and then with that comment about touching and permission.

Unbidden, his focus sharpened, and he found himself as aware of her as he would have been of a dragon moving to attack him. Not able to read her thoughts, but the burst of insight gave him a secondhand feeling of her…emotions, her intent. That low simmer of…

Disappointment?

Boredom, threaded with mild frustration.

Tiavathyris withdrew her hand from his, not roughly but implacably, and took a step back. “It goes without saying. Thank you, husband, for your cooperation. This has been an auspicious start; I will have the next steps for you soon.”

Her expression had gone still, her body language poised and neutral. That was an obvious dismissal, which left him little option but to leave, unless he wanted to begin actively irritating her. Which, obviously, he did not.

Kaln contented himself for now with slipping into a similar poise. Reserved and polite, he nodded to her. “The gratitude is mine, Tiavathyris. Til next time, then.”

Deliberately radiating calm, he stepped down, then past her, and strode down the aisle toward the door, at no point positioning himself to risk catching a glimpse of Vadaralshi’s expression. Inwardly, silently, he seethed.

How had he screwed that up? What went wrong? Izayaroa and Emeralaphine had both eaten up that routine—and the latter while refusing to admit to herself that she liked it! He knew Tiavathyris was into him, she had been extremely unsubtle about it. Something had changed. He’d done something to turn her off, but damned if he could figure out what! His performance had been perfect, even Haktria would have given him full marks.

Well, Kaln reflected as he paced down the corridor toward the central chamber (which he could already smell), two out of three wasn’t a terrible start. There had to be some kind of “in” with Tiavathyris. He just needed more information. He needed to observe her, figure out her wants and needs and general personality…ideally without letting on that he was doing it. And quickly; his position here would rapidly become untenable if she decided she didn’t care for his company after all.

Which meant…

By every nameless and uncounted hell in alphabetical order, he was gonna have to shmooze Vadaralshi a bit. Oh, that should be fun.

Lost in his thoughts, Kaln was halfway across the vast central chamber, navigating the paths between rotting bone piles without really having a plan for where he was going, when his distracted attention was suddenly seized.

There was a dragon focusing on him—coming at him fast, in fact. And this one was definitely hostile.

He felt the surge of killing intent, backed by blazing frustration and fury, before he even heard the roar, definitely before Vanimax came charging out of the front corridor. The black-and-red dragon launched himself with a beat of his wings the instant he had cleared the entry hall and had enough space to open them; he didn’t actually take flight, as there would barely be room for it even in here, but used the force to launch himself halfway across the room in one single bound.

Vanimax slammed to the ground directly in front of Kaln, causing an enormous clatter as old bones were crushed beneath him and sprayed in all directions—even at Kaln, who reflexively raised both arms to cover his face. Several bounced off him with no ill effect; apparently his anti-dragon defenses worked at at least one step removed. So a dragon couldn’t get around it by just chucking something at him, that was handy.

It was funny the things that came to mind in a moment like that. For some reason, Kaln found himself taking particular note of the fact that he felt nothing through his feet from the impact. A creature this size, landing that hard, that close, should have shaken the ground almost like an earthquake. The impervious Timestone didn’t even vibrate.

“Hi, Vanimax,” he said loud, tilting his head back to gaze up at the dragon who was now looming menacingly over him. Claws flexed, jaws slightly parted to show off teeth, and his mouth flickering with the first hints of incipient flame. “Something on your mind?”

“Ar-Kaln Zelekhir!” Vanimax roared. “I challenge you for rule of this family! You, me, right now, to the death!”