Threadbare

The dragon was big, bigger than a barn. It was white-scaled, like frost on a marble mountain. It was built with wings instead of arms, two great legs trailing behind it, ready to swing forward and tear at any prey it could pounce upon.

And on its brow it wore a copper mask, that glinted orange-brown with the rays of the setting sun in its face.

Fortunately for the ship, it was slower. Not by much, but enough that they could keep a good lead on the thing, and stay ahead of the clouds of ice it vomited after them.

For a while it looked like this great dragon would pursue them until either the engines gave out or its wings did, but after about twenty minutes, it abruptly whirled around, with a flash of a crystal-spined tail, and headed back the opposite way.

“Fuck me wi' a pogo stick, that were too close for comfort,” said Anne Bunny, watching it through a spyglass as it retreated toward the rising moon. “Alright, elf. Spill. What was that and why should we go anywhere near it?”

“It be a dragon, obviously,” said Zuula.

“Don't ye be sassin' me arse, dolly. I was talkin' ta the elf. And I've fought dragons, I've run from dragons. That looked like a dragon, aye, but did ye notice? It didn't roar once. Save for the wingbeats, it were completely silent. And I ain't never seen a dragon what did that.”

Threadbare and Chase looked at each other. That was true, Threadbare thought. Dragons and roaring tended to go hand in hand.

“It was like the Dracolupus, wasn't it?” Chase said. “Something corrupted it. I got that feel from it, some subtle sense of wrongness...

“Nothing subtle about it,” said LivingDeadGrrl. “You saw its name too, didn't you Thomasi?”

“I did. And it read, 'Possessed Frost Dragon forty-nine.'”

“Level forty-nine?” Renny said. “Oh dear, oh dear.”

“So what's possessing it?” Anne asked.

“Old ones. Or maybe an old one,” Midian said, leaning her back against the railing, and considering them. “Those masks either bring it into the mind of the Thing In Yellow, and make it a drone for the creature, or they assign some lesser entity to pilot it like a pirate steering a ship. The actual dragon is probably still conscious in there, and unable to do much more than think and feel. And maybe not even that.”

“That's terrible,” Threadbare decided. “Would Disenchanting the mask free it?”

“Possibly, but you'd have to get it out of its owner's possession. And the masks literally weld themselves to the bone. So by the point you got it off, it wouldn't have a skull left, anyway.”

“I didn't sign up to take Cotton Tale up against a dragon,” Anne said, folding her arms.

“Ah, but what true pirate could pass up a chance at plundering a dragon's hoard?” the Phantom asked, stepping forward to run his hands along her shoulders. She shuddered under his touch, then leaned forward and bit his nose. Hard. He gasped and stepped back, as she laughed. “Foreplay later, honey bun. I be in the captain's seat now, and this ship be and its crew be me responsibility. So tell me again, why I should be botherin'.”

“Firstly, it's where we need to go,” said Midian. “It didn't stop chasing us because we were escaping. It stopped chasing us because it's guarding the Emperor's Tomb. I'll run some divinations, but I'm pretty sure that any way we approach the tomb, it will find us and chase us away.”

“Could we use the airship to distract it, then sneak in on foot?” Threadbare asked.

“No, because we'll need the airship to get through the dungeon inside the tomb,” said Midian.

“Oh shit, that place,” LivingDeadGrrl said. “Yeah, it's absolutely fucking nuts in there. If you can't fly, then you won't make it through, and even then the fights get harder and harder as you go. Yeah, we'll need the ship to get through.”

“Yer makin' me case,” said Anne. “If it's that there dangerous that a wendigo is a scairt, then again I ask, why should we be a going?”

“Saving the world?” Midian pointed out.

“Aye, the spies I had listenin' in on ye told me I'd have another few hundred years afore that were a problem, and it might not end anyway, so try again.”

“Well, you already turned down lots of treasure,” Threadbare thought aloud.

“Don't be getting me wrong, a dragon's hoard be a tempting prize. But ye got not just a dragon, but a dragon wi' an old one riding it. That's two checks in the no category.”

“I could eat you, then you'd stop whining about it,” LivingDeadGrrl showed her teeth in a lazy smile...

...a lazy smile that froze, as every crewbunny on deck drew and cocked a pistol and aimed it at her head.

“Hypothetically,” she amended, then shrugged.

“Well fuck ye too,” Anne said to the wendigo queen. “Hypothetically, a'course.”

They were silent a long moment.

“Nobility,” Threadbare said.

“What was that?” Anne asked.

“Nobility. The beastfolk want noble titles, so they can be equal to humans.”

“Go on,” said Anne, considering him with narrowed eyes.

“Well. Cylvania's got quite a few laws now about how nobles aren't allowed to be treated better than commoners, and we're going to be adding a lot more since most of the nobles just tried to take over the country, but if you wanted a noble title, you could have that. Celia told me about that once, she's allowed to give new ones out. She hasn't, but she could if she wanted to.”

“Now what use would a noble title be, if I weren't a proper noble like?” Anne said, but her voice was low and slow and considering, and he could tell that she was mulling it over.

And that's when the Phantom stepped in. “It wouldn't allow you many privileges in Cylvania, no. But you don't spend most of your time on this continent anyway, now do you? And so long as the title is legitimate, and recognized, then no one over in Barobadass could say otherwise.”

Anne stood straight up, rubbing her chin, as her ears perked up.

And then she grinned a golden grin. “Queen Anne. Has a nice ring to it, don't it?”

“Don't lose your head over it,” Thomasi advised.

“Hush, ye. Bear! Can yer little dolly make me a queen?”

“I am very sure that Cylvania can recognize you as the queen of wherever you're from. Assuming there isn't a queen there already.”

“No. No there ain't. Aye, that'll do it. AND we'll be takin' five shares o' the dragon's hoard.”

“Done,” Midian nodded. “Payment and entitlement upon delivery.”

“Aht aht aht,” Anne chided them, waving a finger. “Queen me now. It's a dragon, who knows who's going to survive.”

“Well. I'll need Celia for this part,” Threadbare said, pulling out a waystone. “Can one of your Explorers set a temporary waypoint? I'll need two stones for that, since I'll have to bring her back here for the ceremony.”

And ten minutes later, he activated the waystone, found the garrison left back at the old army camp, and with a quick exchange of wind-whispered messages, got Celia back. Ten minutes after that, the crew and passengers of Cotton Tale stood solemnly, as Cylvania proclaimed Anne Bunny the queen regent of Barobadass and its surrounding islands, provided that she proved her loyalty to the symbolic empty throne of Cylvania by engaging in this most important mission against the white wyvern.

“Bargained well and done!” Anne said, closing her eager hands around the simple crown that Threadbare had smithed together hastily in the engine room, out of steel scrap and the gold coins that they had had in their pockets. It was hastily assembled at best, Threadbare had never spent a lot of time leveling his smithing skill, but Anne looked at it as if it was made from the rarest dwarven-mined gems. And when Celia climbed up her shoulders and put it on over her ears, the Rabbitkin's lips trembled and for a moment Threadbare thought she would cry.

But instead she shot Stormanorm III and Harey Karey a hard glower. “Don't be slackin' because I achieved the dream. We're still getting the both of ye on the council, and yer own damn titles.”

Meanwhile, Celia shot Threadbare a look, dragged him down a few decks, then hugged him until he felt his stuffing strain against the seams. He hugged her back, until she let him go and put her hands on his shoulders, then stepped back, giving him a firm stare. “Now. What's going on, exactly?”

He told her, as best he could. By the time he was finished, Zuula and Madeline had caught up to them, and helped fill in a few details he'd forgotten.

“So you have to go to this rift, and then what?” Celia asked.

“I think we're supposed to go in, and fix things,” Threadbare said. “At the very least, we have to get the mirror to the dragons inside.”

“Mmf. This Midian is basically using you to fix the mess she made,” Celia decided. “But if she's right, then it's a mess that'll hit all of us if nobody does anything. Still, a possessed dragon...”

“I'm not so sure we have to fight it,” Threadbare said. “We just have to get into the dungeon, and through the rift. It might be possible to distract it, and get through before it can stop us.”

“I don't know about that. Airships aren't very stealthy.”

“They aren't, but I did add in those noise cancelling enchantments. We can try. If things go very bad, we can always retreat and try something else.”

Celia walked a wide circle around the hold, thinking.

She looked to Zuula. “Let me guess. You want to kill it.”

“It ain't natural. Zuula be ready, if plans fail. She bring Dreadbare home, don't you worry.”

She looked to Madeline. “You're half dragon, more or less. It's half dragon, more or less. Would it listen to you if you talked to it?”

“Naht a wahd. Old ones ah weird.”

Celia sighed. “I don't have the right to make choices for you. Or bully you into anything you don't want to do. But Threadbare...” her eyes softened, and she walked back, took his paws in her hands. “Please. Please, please, please don't die over this. If we can't get through now, we've got another few centuries to work on it. This isn't worth throwing your life away. All right? Promise me you won't?”

“I won't, I promise,” Threadbare said. I will come back to you.

He hugged his little girl, then, and after a glance, Zuula and Madeline joined in on the hug.

“Right. I need to get back to the war. Things were stable when I left, but tell the Phantom he needs to get a move on. Here's a waystone for him when he's ready.”

Threadbare took it, and watched her go, activating her waystone and disappearing into swirling light.

“All right,” he said, heading up to the top deck and finding Midian and Anne. “I have a few ideas about getting around this dragon...”

Hours later, when they had a rough plan, and were making the final preparations before heading into the literal lair of the beast, the Phantom found Threadbare down in the engine room.

“Hello?” Threadbare asked, looking up at the tall, imposing figure. He seemed more mournful than before, eyes downcast and his posture a bit slumped.

“Ah. Threadbare. I must apologize to you, but I will not be going any further on this adventure.”

“I see. I'm sorry to hear that, your help would have been very useful.”

“My help is in the realm of stagecraft. The best I could do would be to transport the dragon to my stage, but trapping yourself in an area with something of that power would be a sure death for me, I fear. And it has the power of an old one... I cannot risk madness. A mad phantom would do my people no good.”

“Oh. That does make sense. Then thank you very much for your help so far. I'm sorry we got off to a bad start, but I think we've mostly worked it out.”

Threadbare shook the man's hand.

“We are not done, not by a long shot,” the Phantom said. “My ill-advised plan begun a war between our nations. And even if Eidolon's hand was in it, mine was the one that pulled that particular lever. I shall go now and assist your princess in settling this and forging a new bond between us.”

“Do be careful. Even with their Patrician out of service, they're still very, very dangerous.”

“That's another reason I'm going back. My talents are better used there, than here. All right. This has become a long goodbye. Farewell.”

And with that, the Phantom shimmered into light and was gone.

“We lost Cagna as well,” Chase said from the doorway, and Threadbare jumped in surprise, then looked back at her.

“Oh. Is that good?”

“It is. She and the Muscle Wizaard are engaged, and I wouldn't want Bastien's heart broken if we never came back. And she felt this was getting a bit too big for a simple Detective. Rifts and gods and towers of reality are a little... oh, what did she say. Above her paygrade? Yes.”

“She was a very big help earlier, but I can see her point. I feel like this is a bit big for me, too. I just make golems.”

“Silly old bear,” Chase said, and ruffled his head, where the hat didn't cover. “You're the heart of your team. They would die for you.”

“I would never want them to do that!”

“Yes, that's why they would do it. All right. Come on. Let's go save the world.”

The first part of the plan came with patterns. Three times over two days, they tried to reach the Emperor's Tomb. And sure enough, whenever they got within a certain distance, regardless of the direction, the dragon would come.

The third time, it almost got them. They got within visual sight of a wide, circular valley between a loose ring of peaks, when the dragon dropped out of a cloud and hosed the deck down with freezing ice.

Fortunately, Anne was the best pilot in this hemisphere, and they'd taken the time to buff the crew against frost. Even so, it was touch and go for a while, and she had to resort to playing chicken with the dragon against the nearby peaks before they got out of breath weapon range.

But while Anne and the crew were screaming and swearing and doing their best to keep the ship going, Threadbare and the others got to test a few things.

And after a few barrages of cannonballs, that the thing ducked and dove around, Renny tried an illusory barrage of cannonballs.

And the dragon dodged like it had the others.

“Illusions work on it!” Chase whooped, once they were clear. “We're good. The fourth plan you suggested should work.”

“Should,” Zuula said. “Should is very important word, here. Do not get cocky.”

The fact that Zuula was the one saying that sobered Chase up, and the rest of them got back to work. Threadbare busied himself fixing up the ship. And while he was at it he thought of an improvement or two.

“I'm going to go get a few reinforcements,” he told the others. “Don't move in on it until I get back, please.”

It took a fair amount of waystoning back and forth, but after a few hours he returned, with two toy golems in tow.

The first was overjoyed to see everyone again.

“Well bless me buttons, it's Chase and Mister Thomasi and Miss Madeline, and all the bunny folk! Here, you all look so thin! Has nobody cooked you dinner? I'll just see to that I will, can't have you all forgetting to eat just because there's a dragon about!”

And the three-foot tall unstoppable force that was Karen Mousewife got to work cooking, cleaning, and doing vaguely domestic things around Cotton Tale before anyone could stop her.

The other form was small, blobby, and a stranger to most there.

“Hi I'm Spackle yeah yeah, heard we're fighting a dragon, yeah yeah, I'mma punch it in the dick!”

“Spackle helped us out against a giant mimic a month ago,” Threadbare said. “He's nigh-invulnerable.”

“I'mma tardigrade golem. We just don't die easy.”

“Tardigrade? What kind of monster be dat?” Zuula asked, studying him curiously.

“I ain't no monster! We're all over the place, baby! Just so small you can't see us with your biggie sized eyeballs!”

“You is a natural beast?” Zuula said, curiously. “Give her a minute. Beast Shape one, Tardigrade.”

And before their eyes, she shrunk and disappeared.

She was back a moment later, glass eyes wide, and grinning tusk to tusk. “Hokay. Beast Shape? Not so useful. Borrowing of beastly skills? All the use. So much use!”

“Use and abuse baby, all the abuse! Wreck the world! Smash the system! Fuck Nurph!”

“Now ye be talking!” roared Anne, and fired guns in the air for no real reason.

“Mom! Dragon!” Protested Stormanorm.

“Bah, we be out o' his range,” Anne said, but tucked the pistols away guiltily. “Right. Does ANYONE ELSE have ANYTHING, or can we be getting this over with? I be havin' a country to go claim after this.”

“All right. Let's try our best,” Threadbare decided, and the crew got to work.

Half an hour later, with the sun setting in the west, everything was ready.

Threadbare considered the toy bird he'd made and turned into a golem, and said, “Dollseye.”

And for a second, he experienced the disorientation of being the bear staring at the bird, while also being the bird staring at himself.

“Hold it steady, please,” Renny said and clambered up on its back. Threadbare sewed his paws to the bird, to make doubly sure the fox golem wouldn't fall off. Then he turned the bird around and gave it its orders with a few thoughts, and set it winging to the east.

As it went, Renny built illusion after illusion on it, until another Cotton Tale was chugging steadily east, accurate down to the exact pitch and timber of the engines.

“Looks good,” Anne said, nodding. “I'll be takin' her down, now. Everyone! Once we're down get a hidin' and make nary a sound! Tis an order!”

The airship headed due southeast, and nestled under a craggy overhang. Zuula got to work draping it with vines. As camouflage went it wasn't great, but if things went as planned, the wyvern wouldn't be coming their way.

They didn't have long to wait. After only a few minutes later, Threadbare saw what he was looking for. “It's chasing Renny! He's using his air control to run away faster.”

“Give the word,” Anne leaned in.

Threadbare forced himself to wait, turned the bird's eyes downward, peering through the illusion of the airship that was translucent to him, since he knew its true nature. “Not long. In three minutes we should be able to rise up without him seeing us.”

“Start the engines!” Anne belowed. “Silently, lasses! Keep them mufflers a mufflin'!”

And once Threadbare was sure the dragon was past the point of no return, he tugged on Anne's trouser leg, and she brought the ship up and out, snapping vines and speeding along the forest canopy, so close to it that they ruffled the leaves like tides in an ocean of green. They went fast and low, trusting that the dragon would be flying with the sun in its eyes, and unable to spare the time to look back.

This time, Anne pushed the engines to their top speed. It took only five minutes to reach the valley among the high peaks, and another minute to climb up and drop down.

Close up, the valley bore the scars of an ancient battle. Deep burn marks scarred the blasted slops of several of the mountains, and fields of ash were interspersed among the greenery. But for all that, the outer ring of the circular valley looked somewhat kept, as if a squad of gardeners were trying their best to manage a space that was far too large for them.

And in the center, dead trees and tangled, thorny bushes clustered around a stone building, its entry way gaping open into darkness, big enough for Cotton Tale to enter, even with its masts up. Wrecked statues stood on either side, stone feet and broken legs next to fallen, crumbled forms.

Interspersed all around the tangle of the ungardened patch were bones. Large ones. Ribs and clawed hands the size of barn doors, and great skulls with horns and gaping eye sockets and rows of terrifying teeth.

Fallen dragons.

“Perhaps many hoards, if we be lucky!” Anne said, and slowly brought Cotton Tale in.

“Threadbare?” Chase asked.

“The dragon is still chasing Renny,” Threadbare said. “It's quite far away, but not at the edge of its range yet.”

“In we go, then,” said Anne, and the great airship nosed its way carefully under the earth, sliding between the great vaulted ceiling and the stone steps that descended at a sharp, sharp angle. It was a tight fit, but she'd been flying Cotton Tale for over half her life, and under her guidance, they barely scraped the masts a few times.

Threadbare's optimism lasted until they got to the bottom, and Midian gasped. “Oh no.”

“What? What's oh no?” Chase said, staring around, ears gone flat against her skull.

Midian pointed, back the way they'd come.

Threadbare followed her finger to a pair of statues in alcoves, on either side of the stairs. These weren't broken, and their beaten, sinister copper masks gleamed in the running lights of the ship as their heads turned, and they watched it descend. The ship had been at the wrong angle; the crew hadn't seen them until they were past.

And not even a second later, through his Dollseye, he saw the white, shining shape that was the dragon turn from its pursuit, and start shrinking as it gave up early and headed back east.

“The dragon knows we're here. It's coming,” Threadbare told Anne.

“Aye, and we be havin' another problem,” she said, bringing the ship to a stop and pointing at two great, battered bronze gates that were flung open...

...and a great hallway that was choked with rubble, beyond. A lot of rubble. There was still a good amount of space between the rubble and the ceiling, but not enough for Cotton Tale.

“She won't fit,” Anne said, looking down at him. “Ye know what this means.”

“We... can dig this out with magic,” Midian said, though her tone was uncertain. “Or put the ship in an extradimensional space— no, that wouldn't work, we don't have access to any that are big enough... wait. Aunarox?”

“Alas, I cannot,” Aunarox said, raising her arms helplessly. “The ship's magics prevent it from such manipulation; it is too tied to this world.”

“We're going to have to ditch it and go on foot.”

“But it's a flying dungeon after this,” Midian said. “And without the airship, it's going to get bad. We only managed the first time because we had a dragon on our side.”

“Most of us have flying items and potions and effects,” Threadbare said. “Oh, and we should get Renny back, while I'm thinking about it. Call Golem.”

The fox materialized, and checked the snapped stitches on his hands. “I'm sorry, I don't know what went wrong.”

“It's not your fault, you did well,” Threadbare reassured him.

“Math problem for ye,” Anne pointed out. “It took us two solid minutes to manever down these here steps. How much time do ye plan to be sittin' around jawin' and how long will it take that there dragon to get back and murder us all while we're sittin' ducks in this old ruin thingy?”

“You're right. Everyone who's coming, please come now,” Threadbare said, as he grabbed a rope and swung over the side.

More ropes stretched and pulled taut, as people descended. Or in Madeline's case, her own wings served well enough.

“Sir?” came a voice from next to him, and Threadbare looked over to see Bortiz nearby, hat in hand, with the other villagers there as well. “I don't think we can see this through. We can't fly, and we're not that great at fighting dragons.”

“It's all right,” Threadbare told them. “Please go home. We'll look for your mistress, and tell her where you are when we find her.”

With a grateful smile, Trust-Not-the-Devils Bortize put his hat back on, and waved at the others. And then they were gone, just as stealthily as they'd arrived.

And as the last person touched down, Cotton Tale immediately started back up toward the exit. “Good luck, bear!” Anne called down. “We'll try ta lead him a merry chase!”

Threadbare looked around at those who had come so far. Midian looked down on him, eyes full of worry, and haunted from things in her past that he could only guess at. Thomasi stood next to her, a hand on her shoulder, the other hand holding up a glowstone as he studied the tomb's entrance. Chase and Renny watched the rear, to make sure the statues wouldn't suddenly get any funny ideas. Zuula and Madeline gathered to either side of him, ready for battle and trusting him to see them through. And not too far away, Karen Mousewife and Spackle were holding hands, even though she had to squat down a bit to reach him. Aunarox was floating slightly above everyone, studying the symbols remaining on the intact part of the doorframe, and LivingDeadGrrl was sharpening her spear, staring grimly ahead.

And though he tried, he could not shake the feeling that most of them would not survive this.