Threadbare

“Okay,” Zuula said, glaring at Midian. “Dat sound ominous. You gonna do a last minute ha-ha betrayl t’ing?”

“What? Oh. Oh, gods no, I’m sorry. It’s just this will end a very big thing that Agnezsharron has been waiting to finish for a very long time, by her perspective,” Midian said.

“I have spent most of it napping, to be honest,” the green dragon said, stepping out fully from the mist. She was sleek and long, with her underbelly lightening from the lime green of her scales to a more yellowish-tint. A pair of deerlike antlers topped her slender skull. She squinted down at Zuula, questioningly. “Are you some sort of toy?”

“Zuula be badass Shaman. And a fucking ghost witch haunting a toy body.”

“Of a dragon? You envied us that much?”

“Bah. She can change it as she wishes. Dragon is just one of her many forms.”

“Yet here you are, wearing it in the end of everything...” Agnezsharron looked around. “Are the rest of you ghosts as well?”

“I’m very much alive, thank you,” said Chase.

“I’m a greater golem,” said Threadbare. “So are Renny, and Karen.” He pointed at each, respectively or tried to. For a second he couldn’t find the Mousewife, then realized that she was doing her best to hide behind Aunarox’s conjured cloud. The tail sticking out was the dead giveaway.

Agnezsharron nodded, then paused, staring down at him. “You are oddly adorable.”

“Thank you. It’s actually a skill.”

“You do not understand. I have known of your existence for less than two minutes, and I would now slay anything that dared to threaten you. Though perhaps this is from my loneliness.”

“Would you like a hug?” Threadbare stretched up his arms.

“Dragons do not hug,” said Agnezsharron. “Beast Shape Five.”

And then she shrunk, falling in on herself, the light colors going lighter, and the dark fading, until a woman stood there, a human with green eyes, wearing a deer-antler headpiece and a leather skirt. She smiled, knelt down, and spread her arms. “Dragons do not hug. But humans can.”

She was strong, with arms like iron cables. But they shook a bit, and he thought she was trying not to cry.

Finally, she released him and stood. “Aunarox. Midian. How much time do we have?”

“All and none,” said Midian. “But enough for a goodbye, before we start.”

“Start what?” Zuula said, shifting her gaze from the draconic shaman to the elf.

“Of course, she didn’t tell you,” Agnezsharron said, her voice dry. “She never tells anyone all she knows.”

“It’s just there’s so much of it,” Midian said, sighing. Then she dug in her robes and pulled out a handful of scrolls. “Bortiz and the others sent these for you.”

Immediately Agnezsharron squealed with glee, ran over, grabbed the scrolls, then turned her back and started opening and reading through them.

The others watched her get to it, then moved to glare at Midian. All save Aunarox, who folded her arms and smiled, as she always did.

“What exactly has to happen here?” Chase asked.

“The dragon outside, sinking into the sands, is Konol. He’s frozen in time, which is why he’s still alive,” Midian said. “If he dies too early, then very bad things happen very quickly. We’re trying to arrange a replacement, by melding three souls into a new god. But to do this, Agnezsharron must do an ancient draconic rite that will take all her life energy. She’ll die, but Rich and Rotgoriel and Geebo will be the replacement.”

“Who?” Zuula asked.

“It’s a very long story; I’m sorry,” Midian said. “A Player, a dragon, and something that could have been a dragon given enough time.”

“She’s going to die? She waited all this time just to die? That doesn’t sound fair,” Renny said.

That caught Agnezsharron’s ear, and she finished with the last scroll, rolled it up, and tucked it away. “Dragons are not fair,” she said, turning to face them. “I do not wish to die, but I do not have a solution for this. I have made my peace with it.”

“I might be able to offer a solution,” Threadbare said. “Soulstone.”

A purplish-black gem appeared in his paws, and he showed it to her. “I can build you a golem body to house your spirit. Much like Zuula’s.”

Agnezsharron’s eyes widened. Then her face fell. “No. No, I think not. I would be undead, wouldn’t I? No. I do not wish to shed my flesh. I have dwelt in my body, or the bodies that I have shifted into, all my life. Becoming trapped in a prison of cloth or wood would only be a slower death.”

“I see.” Threadbare lowered the stone.

“Wait,” said Zuula. “What happens if you got two dragons to do your rite?”

Agnezsharron looked down at her. “You are not a dragon, not truly,” she said, but her voice held a hint of uncertainty.

“And you are not a human, but here you are. And you count as a human in most ways... yes, that could work,” Midian said, eyes lighting up. “Rich will be happy to hear that. If it works.”

“Good. Then I am ready,” Agnezsharron said. “The mirror, please.”

Midian withdrew it from a pouch that was far too small for it, and it glittered in the dim light of the swamp, the stars in it gleaming and shifting as the elf presented it to the transformed dragon.

Agnezsharron took a deep breath and gazed into it for a time. Then she looked to Zuula. “You, stay. The rest must go. Leave or you will be consumed by the hatching.”

They hurried back, and Threadbare was halfway up the shaded slope that led out of the dungeon before he realized that they were missing one.

He turned to see Aunarox hadn’t moved from the village but was smiling and waving.

“What are you doing?” he called.

“I am setting my people free,” she said. “With my power, he shall have a way to reopen the dreaming to my own world. And thus, my people will be free to return.”

“But you’ll be dead!”

“Ah, little bear. What is a djinn but a dream made real? I shall live on, in this new god.”

The first notes of a droning croon rose, and the sky trembled.

“Now go. For you are destined for another’s dreams, are you not?”

Threadbare turned and ran.

Her motives were now clear, and he knew why she had been silent for much of their acquaintance. She did not want to be turned from this purpose.

Perhaps if he had noticed earlier, perhaps if they had spoken more, they could have found a way around this.

Troubled, he emerged out into the reddish-orange light of the Tower in the wastes.

And he found that his friends had company.

A thing that he hadn’t had time to notice was that the Tower had several floors, and vast stairways leading up on either side of the entryway. Looking up, Threadbare saw they switchbacked to balconies then kept on spiraling up and around, vanishing into the light above.

And on one of those balconies, the one just above the ground floor, was a tall and fat human man, wearing robes of purple and gold, bedecked with jewelry that was probably worth a small kingdom, all told. He leaned against the railing, and as Threadbare came out of the shadowed hollow, he caught part of the man’s conversation.

“—the neighbors are a bit troublesome, but at the end of the day, there’s worse company. Honestly the way some of them are going, you wouldn’t have to wait long, in the grand scheme of things. Oh, hello there, Threadbare! Yorgum sends his regards!”

“Yorgum... oh. Are you a god?” Threadbare asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t keep up very much on godly business.”

“This is Hoon,” Chase said, her face a mix of exasperation and relief. “He says this is where the gods live, up there, I mean.”

“Well, live isn’t exactly the right term. We exist up there,” Hoon said. “Everything gets more abstract the higher you go. Oh! I told the others; I should tell you: don’t climb the stairs unless you want to spend the rest of your existence here. The higher you come the more you become a fundamental part of reality. Honestly, I’m taking a chance by sending a part of me this low so I can’t stay long.”

“What is this place, precisely?” Chase asked.

“Ah... that gets complicated, and we don’t have the full picture,” Hoon said. “Every world builds a Tower, from the beliefs and emotions and hopes and fears of everyone and everything that lives there. And together, all of that determines what shape the world takes. The Tower is a gateway where reality meets the fundamental forces that allow reality to exist.”

“I get it,” Midian said, her eyes lighting up with understanding. “The part you’re in is the code. The part we’re in, normally, is the operating system.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Hoon spread his arms. “But if you join me up here, we can have a good, long talk about it.”

“You just told us not to come up the stairs,” Renny said.

“Well, no, you shouldn’t if you want to leave this place. But if you don’t, then you could come up. There are many vacancies yet to be filled, and not enough people finding their way here these days.”

“You would make us gods?” Midian asked.

“You would make yourself a god. How do you think I got here? I found my way to this place and took the stairs up. Most of us got here that way.”

“There are other ways?” Threadbare asked.

“Oh yes, but that’s not my story to tell, sorry.” Hoon grinned a wide, white smile that contrasted against his dark, dark skin. “But anyway, you should probably go out to the steps and watch. It is not every day you see a god hand his power over to a successor.”

Midian was in motion before he finished speaking, hurrying back out of the central chamber of the tower, and out to the steps that went down and vanished into the hungry sands. Threadbare and the others hurried out.

“Where’s Aunarox?” Midian asked, as he emerged.

“She stayed in the dungeon.”

“What? No, that will... I don’t actually know what that will do,” Midian said, running her hand through her hair. “No time to fix it. I suppose we’ll find out.”

The Tower trembled, and grit rained down from above. The five of them froze glanced up...

...then across the waste, where a god suddenly gasped for air and roared in pain.

Konol was awake. The spell that stopped time was done.

Behind them, Threadbare heard crackling, and the clacking and clicking of claws. And the sound of heavy footsteps on the stone of the Tower.

He did not turn, not when hot breath poured across his shoulders, not even when wings snapped, and the wind ruffled his fur as a smaller dragon took its first flight, its shadow falling over them as it flew to Konol. It had similar hide, like a starry void set in scales, but its features were softer, rounder, and its build more compact.

They spoke then, roars and growls rising and falling in a tongue none of the party could understand. Well, all save for one.

“Dat fucker does go on,” Zuula said, and Threadbare turned to see Zuula, in her regular doll form, draped exhausted over an equally tired-looking Agnezsharron.

“It worked!” he cheered and hugged them both.

“Yeah. Guess who be back to level fucking one again,” Zuula griped. “Bitches did NOT tell Zuula it took experience and shit.”

“You are alive. I am alive. Shut up,” Agnezsharron said, head drooping and wings dragging on the ground. “And thank you, by the way.”

“You welcome.”

They watched as the two gods finished up their conversation, and the smaller one wheeled back, flapping his way to the Tower. He entered a higher arch, and they heard him moving around inside.

But Threadbare wasn’t paying much attention. Instead ,he gazed into the white, solid, moonlike eyes of Konol as the elder god lay his head down on the sand and let himself sink the rest of the way. In moments he was gone.

“He was grateful to have us here, at the end,” Chase whispered down to him. “I could feel it.”

“Nobody should ever have to die alone,” Threadbare said. “Shall we go back inside?”

The upper balcony was full of gods, twelve of them plus the new one. They looked to be having an involved conversation, but no sound drifted downward. And once Threadbare and his friends entered into their sight they stopped and stared downward.

The eyes of the divine were upon them. One, a bearded man who could have been a dwarf, hitched up his toolbelt, adjusted his glasses, and grinned to see Threadbare.

Threadbare waved back.

“What happens now?” Zuula asked.

“The world keeps on spinning,” Hoon said. “And you choose whether to stay there, to climb, or to return home.”

“I’m curious,” said Midian. “If all it takes to make new gods is to climb the stairs, then why did we have to remake Rich and the others? Couldn’t we just have come up, to take Konol’s place the first time around?”

“No,” Hoon shook his head. “Replacing a god is a different thing. Especially when you’re doing it while maintaining bridges between worlds. Had you done that, taken that shortcut the first time you arrived, then there would be no path home for those who were stranded here. Now there is.”

“It was worth it,” Midian sagged with relief.

“If we climb, we become gods,” Threadbare said.

“Eventually. It’s more complicated than that, but yes,” Hoon said.

“What happens if we stay down here?”

“Nothing, unless there are new visitors. Eventually you either walk out into the desert and crumble to your death or ascend the stairs to join us. But if there are new visitors, one of them may have a way home for you.”

“Is there no other way to return home?” Chase whispered.

“If you have brought a way with you that the Tower has not seen before, then yes.” said Hoon. “It wishes to fill the gaps in the structure, and there are many, so it holds tight to those who come here. It learns from those who escape. Each method works once and only once.”

“I see,” said Midian. “I have a way out, I think. It might not work. But I can’t take anyone with me; I don’t think logging out to my world would do any of you any good.”

“Richard,” said Agnezsharron, and the black dragon on the balcony hesitated, then met her eyes.

“Do you still feel for me? Do all of you still want my company?” said the green dragon.

Threadbare had never seen a dragon smile before.

The answer was all that Agnezsharron needed, and she started dragging herself toward the stairs.

“Oh, if you gonna do dis, you gonna need someone to back you up,” said Zuula and hopped off to help push her upstairs.

Karen Mousewife hesitated, looking around and burying her paws in her skirt. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I never wanted to... well I don’t think I should be a god, sir. I shouldn’t go.”

“Then don’t,” Threadbare told her. “I might be able to get you home. Wait here for a while, and I’ll see what I can do.”

And after a moment, Chase and Renny walked up the first few steps. The halven paused, to look back. “Thank you,” she told Threadbare. “For everything.” Then she turned her back and climbed up to her destiny.

“You’re welcome. But you were a very great help to me, too. Oh, by the way, hold these for me please,” he told Midian, as he started taking off his clothes and handing them over.

“You’re not going to climb the stairs?” Midian asked him, as she took out her pack.

“I don’t want to be a god. I’m happy with what I have. And there are a lot of friends who still need me.”

“Then you have a way back?” Midian asked.

“I think so. I have to try,” Threadbare said.

He took one last look at his friends, as they looked back. “I’m very proud to have known you all,” he told them, as he took off the last of his clothes and items, and handed them to Midian, one by one. “Please be good gods. If this works then I’ll learn Cleric to speak with you when I can.”

And then he turned and walked out into the desert.

It didn’t take long for the sand to draw at him, and he looked down to see his hide blackening and falling away, and the stuffing shriveling up as the sand started to take him. Midian had told him once, when she was made sane, that the sand was not sand. What was it then? Some fundamental force of entropy, like the old one had mentioned? The space between worlds, where nothing that lived could exist for long, where the very rules that the towers allowed did not reach?

He sat in the sand and looked in the distance, and there he beheld other towers on the horizon, some crumbled, some smaller, some larger. All of them impossibly far away.

He looked at them until his lower body was gone, and then he fell into the sand, and the last sensation he had in this body was the feeling of his eyes crumbling away.

Blackness, then. Darkness unending.

Until it ended.

And words glowed white hot in the velvet darkness.

Creator’s Legacy! Would you like to transfer your soul to THREADBARE’S BIRD_GOLEM 01? y/n?

Yes, he willed.

And then he was a bird, flying west since it had never received any orders to the contrary.

He landed there in the wild lands, and tried to open his mouth to Call the Mousewife to him but couldn’t. No voice box, he realized.

Well. No matter.

He had wings, and he had time, and he had Celia to return to. And Pulsivar, and Graves, and Garon, and so many other friends. And they had problems to solve, and he had stories to tell, but all that would come later.

For now, he looked up at the stars in the sky, and tried to smile as best he could around an unfamiliar beak.

Everything had come together, and the world would spin on, and he would get to see and be a part of it for a very long time to come