The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon - Chapter 26: The Vampire Works Hard

Chapter 26: The Vampire Works Hard

Marcus took a moment to drag in a long, deep breath of the cool night air. Vampires didn’t technically need to breathe, but breathing still eased the load on his other abilities. More importantly, there was something distinctly pleasant about cooling down after a night of bloodshed and ruin.

The ambush had gone about as well as could be expected. The enemy ancient had been moving his forces northward to take a defensive position up on a bluff that held a commanding view of the surrounding area. Marcus had hidden his forces along the narrow trail that led up to the bluff and had sprung his trap the moment the other ancient had committed himself to the trail.

It might sound callous, but the other ancient was the only part of the opposing force that mattered. Even if the rest of his troops escaped, if the ancient fell, then Marcus would have considered the attack a success. The purpose of bringing his own forces was to keep his opponent’s forces occupied, so he could confront the other ancient personally without being swarmed by enemy soldiers. Yes, he could easily slaughter them, but even a moment’s distraction could prove fatal against another ancient.

The plan had gone well. The enemy had been caught off guard, and his forces had successfully engaged the enemy soldiers, as well as the enemy vampire fledglings and elders. He’d tasked Ivar with sniping the vampires who served as the backbone of the enemy’s command structure. The half-blood might not have the raw power to confront the stronger elders on his own, but his bow and the arrows Marcus had given him evened the odds.

A bow made from the branch of a Daughter Tree and arrows of dragon-silver would be enough to penetrate the defences of just about any fledgling or elder. Ivar might only know basic and lesser runes, but the ones he had learned were all suited for hunting vampires. Put a few of those on an arrow, and a hit to the head or the heart could easily prove fatal for even an elder vampire.

Marcus himself had gone straight for the other ancient. He didn’t know the other ancient’s name, but he hadn’t taken him lightly. Vampires had essentially perfect night vision, so being blinded was something that could take even most ancients by surprise. Marcus had used a greater rune of blinding to rob his opponent of his vision before using several lesser runes of restraint to hold him in place.

To his credit, the other ancient had broken through the runes of restraint almost immediately, but Marcus had never intended for those runes to hold him. Instead, they were supposed to distract him, allowing Marcus to conceal himself and create a blood doppelganger. Blood doppelgangers were costly constructs, not only in terms of the amount of his own blood that Marcus had to shed but also the amount of magic and mental control required to create and maintain them.

However, blood doppelgangers were excellent facsimiles of whoever made them. They could fool even close examination, and they could actually contribute to a fight. The doppelganger that Marcus made was about a quarter as strong as he was and had taken perhaps half of his overall power to create.

But even a blood doppelganger could not fool a skilled ancient, and his opponent had proven skilled indeed. He had used a greater rune of dismissal to break free of Marcus’s rune of blinding before turning his attention to the doppelganger. It had taken him roughly three quarters of a second to realise that the doppelganger was a fake.

But in a battle between ancient vampires, three quarters of a second could mean everything. Vampires could sense heat and blood and had outstanding hearing and smell, yet they nevertheless relied primarily on their vision to identify threats. Blinding his opponent had allowed Marcus to conceal himself, and presenting the doppelganger had delayed his opponent’s scrying and detection magic by three quarters of a second.

Marcus used that time to appear behind his opponent and cut off his head before stabbing him in the heart. A rune of true death should have ended the battle then and there, but his opponent had not gone into battle unprepared. He wore a charm, one of incredible quality, that stored an ancient rune of full restoration.

For a split-second, the two ancient runes had clashed, as he and his opponent each tried to bend the story of the world to their own ends. In the end, Marcus had lost. His opponent must have spent years pouring energy into the charm to ramp up the power of the ancient rune to an absurd degree,

What should have been an immediate victory had devolved into a long, drawn-out battle as he and his opponent left the trail behind and devastated the surrounding landscape. The blood of the fallen was torn out of their bodies and turned into opposing storms of crimson death as they ripped at each other with sanguine claws, blades, and teeth.

Marcus found himself wondering how he’d never heard of this other ancient before. The other vampire was clearly exceptionally skilled, but it wasn’t unusual for ancients to seclude themselves for centuries at a time, emerging only when they needed to secure resources or feed. Marcus had also spent much of the Sixth Age away from other vampires, and he hadn’t exactly spent the past thousand years scouting for threats either.

In the end Marcus had won because he was just that little bit more experienced and efficient with his power. It was a small thing, and it wouldn’t have mattered in a shorter fight, but as the battle dragged on, going from a clash of mere seconds to one that took almost an hour, those small differences in experience and efficiency allowed Marcus to land one blow and then another and another, his small advantages piling up like snow upon a northern hillside until finally they turned into an avalanche.

His opponent fell, and both Marcus and his sword drank greedily. Marcus had not drunk Gaius’s blood. The man had been a fool, and the less Marcus had to do with him, the better. If history forgot him, the world would be a better place. But his opponent had been worthy of respect. He would continue to live on through Marcus, and that was the greatest respect that Marcus could give him.

With his opponent dead, Marcus tugged off his helmet and began the long walk back to the trail. The night air was cool upon his face, and there was a crisp cleanness to it that could only be tasted here in the desolate north, far from the bustling thoroughfares and crowded marketplaces that could be found in more hospitable climes. It reminded him of the nights he had spent wandering through what was left of the vampiric homelands.

Doomwing had destroyed them so utterly that they were completely unrecognisable.

But there had been beauty amidst the desolation. He hadn’t been able to stay long Doomwing’s magic had left a scar upon that place that was only now beginning to heal but the night sky had been beautiful to behold. His father, the fool, had transformed the land itself to fuel his ascent to power, building countless towers and other constructs to harness the region’s ambient magic.

The entire region had been covered in a miasma of unnatural light, the stars replaced by a pulsing haze of black, purple, blue, and green radiance. It had hurt to look upon, and the sight of it had driven many people mad. His father had found that amusing, but Marcus had been glad to see it gone, reduced to nothingness by his friend’s magic.

Still, he was a bit puzzled. He was still beneath the umbral veil, yet the stars could be seen clearly. How did that work? Did the veil merely block sunlight while allowing starlight to pass through? Or perhaps it was simply a case of his vampiric vision being unimpeded by the veil. Whatever the case, he’d already tested the veil many times. Even a fledgling could walk around at noon without feeling so much as a tingle on their skin.

He had almost reached his forces when he felt someone approaching at high speed. Their magic felt vaguely familiar, but he nevertheless prepared himself for battle. Now, after he had used up much of his power, would be the perfect time for an ambush. He donned his helmet once more and began to draw power out of his sword. The sanguine steel hummed, and he felt power flow into him. It was almost like drinking blood.

His eyes narrowed as a cloud of bats moving far faster than normal bats could approached and the landed nearby. The bats clumped together and then faded, leaving behind a person he hadn’t seen in quite some time.

“It’s been a while, Marcus.” Faustina was as beautiful as ever, all long, dark hair, pale skin, and eyes that seemed equal parts sorrowful and contemplative. He fought the urge to scowl. He’d always found the scholarly type intriguing, and Faustina was a scholarly as any vampire he’d ever met. Of course, she was also a bit of a mad scientist, but there was something oddly alluring about watching her cackle over her newest experiment.

He’d once tried to explain the appeal to Doomwing, and the dragon had simply scoffed.

“Mother Tree once told me to avoid crazy. Clearly, nobody ever told you the same.”

He had wanted to disagree, but then Faustina had blown up his manor. He’d quite liked that manor, but he still might have forgiven her for it if her ‘apology’ hadn’t basically amounted to ‘I’m sorry that you feel bad that your manor exploded because it was too crappy to survive my experiment’.

They’d argued and then parted ways, and they’d only run into each other a handful of times since then. He wouldn’t say there was bad blood between them, but he wasn’t about to share a bed with her again either until he’d confirmed that she wouldn’t be rigging it with enough alchemical explosives to level a mountain. She had a well-concealed vicious streak, which was another thing he’d found appealing.

And again, Doomwing had just rolled his eyes when Marcus had mentioned it.

“Unnecessary viciousness is not a desirable trait in a mate.”

That might have sounded odd coming from a dragon, but Doomwing had calmly explained that unnecessary viciousness was a great way to end up dead. Many dragons died because they refused to retreat when faced with battles they couldn’t win. Doomwing was no coward, but he was a firm believer in employing a ‘tactical retreat’ or two when confronted by a truly dangerous opponent, so he could better understand their strengths and weaknesses.

An overly vicious mate would probably get themselves killed early, he had pointed out. They might even get their hatchlings killed too. When hatchlings were involved, it was important to prioritise their safety. If that meant forsaking pride and glory, then so be it. Dragons lived long lives. They could find glory later. However, they did not reproduce as quickly as other species, so they needed to ensure that their hatchlings were well protected until they had grown enough to protect themselves.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to kill me, are you?” Marcus asked.

At this range, he was confident that he could reach her and strike her down if necessary. He’d prefer to avoid that, but he’d do it if he had to. As an exceptionally gifted alchemist, Faustina was most effective away from the frontlines where she offer support in the form of better weapons, potions, and other assistance.

“Are you serious?” Faustina stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “If I was trying to kill you, I’d have strapped explosives onto all of my bats before having them dive bomb this entire area into a giant crater. I’m here because I want in.”

“In?”

“Yes, in.” Faustina looked around and then lowered her voice. “I ran into Doomwing. The scaly bastard is as surly as ever, but he did tell me a few interesting things. If you’re going to try to take over the area beneath the umbral veil, then I can help you.”

“Is that so?” Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I just help you out of the goodness of my heart?” Faustina asked.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Marcus replied. “Is this about my manor? Because if you want to pay me back for that, I’ll accept payment in weapons and armour ”

“This isn’t about your manor!” she snapped before folding her arms across her chest. It was, Marcus thought, a nice chest. No. Focus. Do not ogle the crazy alchemist. “If there’s going to be a king of the vampires, I’ll admit that you’re probably the least awful choice. At the very least, you won’t just turn everything into one big orgy.” She shuddered. “I remember that time Gaius tried to hire me to make stuff for him, but it was all just an attempt to drag me into an orgy.”

Marcus grinned wolfishly. “Gaius is dead.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Faustina said. “He always was an asshole. Anyway, if you’re going to become king of the vampires and I think you’ve probably got the best odds of winning then I want to help.”

“And I assuming you want to be rewarded for your help?” Marcus asked.

“Of course. Equal exchange. That’s how alchemy and relationships work.” Faustina nodded sagely. “You know what I can do. I can make you weapons, armour, potions, artifacts, and a bunch of other stuff. In exchange, I want to study the umbral veil, and I want funding to establish a research academy. Naturally, a certain portion of our research will be devoted to topics that you’re interested in.”

“Hmm” Marcus had to admit that the general idea wasn’t bad. He had smiths to make armour and weapons, and he had several artificers under his command who weren’t half bad. However, Faustina was better than any of them. Even setting aside her personal skills in those area, her ability to provide them with better materials would also lead to a massive increase in their effectiveness.

He had won every battle he had fought so far, but winning the war would be tricker. Battles could be won with tactics, but wars often came down to logistics. It was something he had taught Elerion back when his long-dead friend had been a boy. Tactics and strategy were all very important, but you could win most wars by simply having more and better than your opponent.

More troops. Better troops.

More weapons and armour. Better weapons and armour.

More supplies. Better supplies.

Right now, Marcus was still developing his logistics. The warriors of the far north were used to fighting small-scale conflicts, with battles rarely featuring more than a few hundred warriors at a time. However, things were changing rapidly. Whenever an ancient fell, it was standard practice for the majority of their troops to join the victor. Most of them held no great loyalty to one vampire or another. Instead, they were interested in joining the winning team.

It was a bit cut throat, but Marcus could understand the logic. The north was rugged and inhospitable. Simply killing the defeated would swiftly reduce numbers to the point of collapse. Instead, the people of the far north had developed traditions that made honourable surrender possible. To be fair, Marcus didn’t let just anyone join his forces. If he thought people were likely to turn traitor or would do more harm than good, then he would either send them away or deal with them. And sometimes, the enemy simply refused to surrender, fighting until the last man. He could respect that, even if he thought it foolish.

Having Faustina join his forces would be a huge boon. Her skills as an alchemist aside, she was still an ancient vampire. She might not specialise in battle to the same extent as him, but she wasn’t weak, and she could handle herself in a fight if need be. He had a suspicion that as the war went on, and factions began to form, the smaller groups led by less powerful ancients would have no choice but to abandon their ambitions of conquest and join the leading candidates.

Marcus was currently one of those leading candidates, but the stronger he could make his forces, the fewer battles he would have to fight. The majority of ancients were both rational and fearful of death. If he offered reasonable terms, they would join him. It would be better, from their view, to live as a noble in the new order than to die as a ruler of their own faction.

“Fine,” he said at last. “You can join me, but we’ll need to discuss the details when we get back to my camp.”

“Oh, about that.” Faustina pulled out a parchment. “I have a contract ready. All you have to do is to sign here, add a bit of your blood and magic here, and we’re good to go!”

He ignored her sunny smile. “Not happening. I am not signing anything you wrote without going through it with a fine-toothed comb. In fact, I’ll have Quintus go through it too. He’s good at stuff like this.”

She pouted. “You don’t trust me?”

“The ruins of my manor trusted you.”

“Hey!”

Marcus turned on his heel. “Come on. My troops will be wondering where I am.” He stopped mid-stride.

“What?”

“Did you ever meet an ancient named Atticus?” Marcus asked. He was finally getting access to some of the memories of the vampire he’d beaten, thanks to the blood he’d consumed. It would likely take several weeks before he knew exactly how many memories he’d get. Hopefully, some of them would contain useful information, like magic or combat techniques.

“Atticus?” Faustina made a face. “I might have heard of him a few times. He had a lair near the sea, far to the south from here. He pretty reclusive, but he was supposed to be pretty good at fighting. Why do you ask?”

“He was the ancient I killed shortly before you arrived.” Marcus shook himself. “I’m getting a few of his memories now. I’ll have to send someone to check out his lair when all of this is over. He wasn’t able to bring everything with him.”

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Faustina perked up. “Another ancient’s lair, you say? I don’t suppose?”

“I won’t even consider it until this war is over. Stay focused.”

“You!” Quintus jabbed one finger at Faustina. “You fiend!”

Faustina hissed like a cat and grabbed the nearest chair, holding it above her head and ready to bring it down on the other ancient at a moment’s notice. “You!”

“Enough.” Marcus plucked the chair out Faustina’s grasp and sat down in it before gesturing for the two other vampires to grab chairs of their own.

Faustina had accompanied him back to his forces and returned with him to his camp. Despite her true identity as an overenthusiastic Doomwing would say crazy alchemist, she was perfectly capable of playing the part of a mysterious, alluring, and majestic ancient vampire when she felt like it. His men had waggled their eyebrows, and he didn’t have to use his powers to know what they were thinking.

But calling his camp a mere camp was starting to get disrespectful. Quintus was not a combat specialist, but there were few better at organising and getting things done. Under Quintus’s supervision, the camp had undergone a transformation. Better buildings had been constructed, the fortifications that Marcus had been pushing to build had finally been completed, and all manner of amenities had been added.

The fierce warriors of the north were inclined to favour strength over everything else, but they had all grown fond of Quintus. Who wouldn’t be fond of someone who made sure they got better housing, better beds, and better food? It also made them more determined to follow Marcus, and he knew their loyalty would only increase once they got access to the weapons, armour, and artifacts that Faustina could produce.

“Why is this guy here?” Faustina whined. “He worked for Gaius. I bet he’s a creep too.”

“We both know that he didn’t have much of a choice. Gaius was his sire,” Marcus replied. “Besides, you know how good he is at managing things. Think of what you’ll be able to do with his help.”

Faustina grumbled but sat down.

“I should point out that she has a rather indiscriminate approach,” Quintus said. “I can understand her trying to kill Gaius after his attempts to ensnare her, but she also blew up most of the surrounding countryside during her escape. I was lucky to survive!”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Most of the surrounding countryside?”

Faustina shrugged. “I wanted to be certain Gaius died. I still can’t believe he lived through that. I made extra sure to make the explosion as deadly as possible with what I had on hand.”

“He had several artifacts to protect himself,” Quintus said. “He was quite angry when they were destroyed, but they allowed him to survive.”

“What about you?” Marcus asked.

“It took me a year in a pool full of blood to heal.”

“You’re tougher than you look,” Faustina said. “That explosion would have killed most ancients.”

“I do enjoy living, yes.” Quintus looked around. “Will Ivar not be joining us?”

“No,” Marcus said. “He had to use a lot of his power during the battle. He did very well, but he needs his rest. Besides, this isn’t a formal meeting. I just wanted you two to meet in private, rather than having your first meeting be in public.”

“A wise move,” Quintus said. “But fear not. I shall be polite and respectful in public.”

“And in private?” Faustina asked toothily.

“I will afford you the respect you deserve.”

“” Faustina’s eye twitched. “I’ll do the same for you.”

“Anyway,” Marcus said. “Have any of our scouts returned from the forest?”

Quintus shook his head. “None. I was going to ask you about it since several of them were reasonably skilled. I was willing to chalk the loss of the first few to bears or other animals, but even regular monsters should not have been able to kill all of the scouts we sent this time.”

“What’s this about a forest?” Faustina asked.

“The far north is a land too cold for any human to survive in. Even we ancient vampires would struggle to survive there for long without the use of magic. However, access to the far north isn’t easy. There is a vast forest that separates it from the extremely cold but still survivable areas of the north.”

“Is the forest one big circle?” Faustina asked. “Because if it isn’t, can’t you just walk around until you find a gap in it?”

“There are gaps in the forest,” Quintus said. “But they are dangerous, home to all manner of powerful monsters, such as frost worms.”

“Frost worms?” Faustina’s brows furrowed. “Aren’t those giant worms that burrow deep into the permafrost and glaciers? They’re supposed to get pretty big too. I remember seeing the head of a specimen that was supposed to be thousands of feet long.” She grinned toothily. “You can get some pretty interesting alchemical ingredients out of them”

“We are not going to go hunting for frost worms,” Marcus said. “The largest of them are extremely dangerous to the point that all three of us might be required to fight. Perhaps after the war, we can try, but not now.” Marcus nodded at Quintus. “I thought we just needed lumber from the forest. Surely, we can harvest a few trees from the edges.”

“The scouts were instructed to venture no more than a hundred yards into the forest. I was quite clear about that. Nevertheless, none have returned.”

“That is odd,” Marcus said. “I wonder ”

He paused as a familiar sensation washed over him. Quintus and Faustina sensed it too, with the other male vampire getting to his feet and readying his own magic while Faustina glared balefully at the middle of the room.

“Relax,” Marcus said. “We’re not under attack.”

A moment later, an image of Doomwing appeared in the middle of the room. The dragon looked much the same as always although the view of the volcano behind him was different. Instead of smoke and ash, the air over the volcano was clear, and there seemed to be an egg of some kind floating over the lake of lava.

“It seems you’re still alive,” Doomwing drawled. “Have you won yet?”

Marcus chuckled. “I’m not that easy to kill, and, no, I haven’t won yet.” He pointed. “What’s that behind you?”

The dragon smiled. “A stellar phoenix egg. I was able to acquire it during my trip south, along with several other interesting things and people.” His gaze drifted to Faustina and Quintus.

“I guess I have you to thank for sending Faustina my way,” Marcus said. “If you don’t hear from me in a month, assume she blew up my camp and avenge me.”

“Hey!”

Marcus gestured at Quintus. “This is Quintus. He joined me fairly recently, but he’s been doing an excellent job managing matters around camp.”

“Is that so?” Doomwing’s gaze was piercing despite the distance between them. “Can he be trusted?”

“I think so.”

“If he does betray you, I will deal with him,” Doomwing said.

Quintus cleared his throat. “I have no intention of betraying, Marcus, mighty Doomwing.”

“Mighty Doomwing?” Marcus grinned. “It still sounds weird when I hear people call you that.”

“Most people call me that. You’re simply obnoxious.”

“I guess that’s true. So what have you been up to?” Marcus asked. “And you can speak freely. These two will be two of my closest advisors going forward. Besides, it’s not like they’ll be headed your way any time soon.”

What followed was a brief but concise recount of what Doomwing had been doing since they’d last spoken. By the time he was done, Marcus wasn’t sure whether to laugh, scream, or cry. Instead, he settled for holding his head in his hands.

“Only you,” Marcus said. “Only you could do all of that and somehow make it work.”

“I am Doomwing,” the dragon replied. “I can make anything work.”

“But a sky ship of the Third Age,” Faustina said. “I don’t suppose you have another one you could lend us for study?”

“I have several,” Doomwing said. “In my hoard where they shall remain. I find the thought of you with the core of a sky ship disturbing. Marcus might actually die when your inevitable experiment with it fails.”

“Even so,” Quintus said. “This is good news, mighty Doomwing. It won’t be long before your territory’s power and influence increase, and once Marcus claims the north for himself, we should be able to work something out with regards to trade.”

“A descendant of Elerion,” Marcus said, smiling. “From what you’ve said she’s a lot like him.”

“She is even stupider than he was.” The words might have been cutting, but there was no mistaking the fondness in Doomwing’s voice.

“Is that so? I’ll have to arrange a meeting somehow after I’ve won up here.”

“Perhaps,” Doomwing said. “What about you, Marcus, what have you achieved since we last spoke?”

Marcus bit back a laugh. The smugness in the dragon’s voice was unmistakable although, to be fair, he had a lot to be smug about. “Well”

Once he’d filled Doomwing in on recent events, he decided to ask him about the forest. “Do you know anything about the forest up here and why people might be disappearing in it?”

The dragon took a moment to think before nodded, more to himself than them. “I think I know why, but I am not surprised that you three do not. It occurred near the beginning of the Fourth Age, and as far as I am aware, no vampires ventured this far north until at least midway through the Fourth Age.”

“What happened?” Quintus asked. The bespectacled man had something of an interest in history, and he had been quite intrigued by the ruins they had found scattered throughout the north.

“After the seas receded, many dryads sought to claim lands for themselves. These younger dryads would take groups of elves and tree folk and venture from their homelands in search of territory. I did not know her personally, but I heard tell of a dryad who ventured north to the roof to the world. When the cold prove too much for her followers, she abandoned her quest and chose to settle as far north as her followers could tolerate. I suspect that she was responsible for the creation of the forest you speak of.”

“If there’s a dryad, then we should be able to negotiate with her.” Marcus rubbed his chin. “I have a few things a dryad might want, and I’m sure she won’t mind too much if we only take a few trees from the forest edge.”

“There is no dryad,” Doomwing said. “She died only a few centuries after settling in the north.”

“She died?” Faustina stared. “How? I mean there are frost worms, but I’ve never heard of a frost worm attacking a dryad unprovoked before, and I’d like to think she wasn’t that stupid.”

Marcus tried not to snicker. That was an interesting comment coming from someone who had suggested they go out and hunt a frost worm for alchemical ingredients.

“In the far north, where no human or elf can live, there are frost giants,” Doomwing explained. “They venture south now and then, and they took exception to the forest’s continuing expansion. According to the elves who survived the conflict and fled south, war broke out between the frost giants and the dryad. Although the two sides were fairly evenly matched, the frost giants had something the dryad could not beat a frost titan.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “A frost titan?” Frost giants were massive creatures, with the largest reaching perhaps a hundred feet in height. Frost titans were frost giants who had managed to ascend far beyond their origins. The smallest of them were three hundred feet tall, and he had heard stories of frost titans large enough to wrestle Doomwing.

“As you can imagine, the battle went poorly for the dryad and her forces. The elves and tree folk were driven back, and the frost titan was able to slay the dryad, albeit at the cost of his own life. Without a dryad, the elves decided to leave and return south. However, the tree folk remained, filled with bitterness at their failure and hatred for the frost giants. The elves leaving drove them all but mad, and they became increasingly aggressive, attacking anyone who dared to enter their forest. They began to hunt down frost giants, consuming them and growing in size until they could match even frost titans in size.”

Marcus fought the urge to scream. Forget the other ancient vampires. If there were frost titans and similarly large and powerful tree folk roaming around, then he had literally bigger problems to worry about. “Okay. If that’s true, how come we’re not all dead?”

“The tree folk are more concerned with exterminating the frost giants in revenge than on what happens further south. They likely killed your scouts for intruding into their forest, but it’s unlikely they’ll leave their forest unless you truly provoke them. From what you’ve said, the umbral veil ends just shy of the forest itself, so they have no reason to try to destroy it.” Doomwing paused. “Although if they do try to destroy it”

“I might have to ask for your help,” Marcus admitted.

“I was going to say that I can contact Frostfang.”

“What does Frostfang have to do with this?” Marcus asked.

“Ask yourself a question. If so many were beholden to the Sixth Catastrophe’s will, why were we not beset by forces from the north? Think of what an army of enslaved tree folk and frost giants could have done in the final battle.”

Marcus shuddered. “It would not have gone well for us.”

“As you know, my fellow primordial dragons participated in the battle not all of them, but some of them. Frostfang dealt with the situation in the north. I suspect that his influence has forced a ceasefire of sorts between the frost giants and the tree folk. If nothing else, their constant squabbling would disturb his naps. As powerful as the frost giants and tree folk are, they would have to be foolish indeed to challenge Frostfang in a land of ice and snow.”

Marcus almost laughed at the thought of someone picking a fight with a primordial winter dragon under those conditions. That was just suicide with extra steps. “How come I didn’t know about that?”

“I told as few people as possible,” Doomwing said. “Because the less people who knew, the less chances there were for the Sixth Catastrophe to learn of it. She had counted on those northern forces to swing the battle in her favour. Losing them without notice was one of the reasons she abandoned her defensive position and attacked. She wasn’t sure she could win if Frostfang and the other primordial dragons who were dealing with her operations around the world joined the battle alongside us.”

Marcus made a face. Kagami had been a brilliant planner. She had dozens of operations scattered across the world, all of them feeding her power and spreading her will. Defeating her had necessitated taking out all of those operations one after the other without giving her a chance to replace them. Unfortunately, some of those operations had involved forces that required Doomwing’s fellow primordial dragons to deal with. As a result, only Doomwing had been present during the siege. The plan had been for the other primordial dragons to deal with Kagami’s operations and then rush to the siege to help Doomwing overwhelm her.

Kagami must have realised what had happened, choosing to abandon her defensive position in the hopes that she could kill Doomwing before the other primordial dragons arrived. If she could do that, there was a chance she could go after the primordial dragons one at a time, picking them off before they could join forces. It was her only real shot at victory, and she had very nearly managed to kill Doomwing.

“Why didn’t the other primordial dragons join us afterward?” Marcus growled. He had always wondered about that, but it wasn’t as though he could force a primordial dragon to respond. “You were badly wounded.”

“The backlash of the Sixth Catastrophe’s death resulted in many of her more esoteric rituals and preparations going awry.” Doomwing scowled. “I do not understand the exact mechanics only Dreamsong would be able to fully explain it but her death throes resulted in massive damage to the dreaming lands that also bled into the physical world. My fellow primordial dragons expended much of their power preventing it from getting completely out of control. It is likely why even those who were not wounded to the extent I was have not been particularly active until now.”

“Until now?” Marcus asked.

“Ashheart has awakened,” Doomwing said. “And I sense Frostfang’s power growing in the north. He has never truly slept the way I have, merely napped, but he feels far more active than he was the last time I was awake. I will have to contact him to see what has changed. As for the others, some are already awake, and others may soon be stirring.”

Marcus sat up. Primordial dragons were akin to forces of nature. It was rare for all of them to be awake at the same time outside of Catastrophes. Was there more trouble on the horizon, or was it simply a case of them awakening in response to each other? “Is Ashheart well? He was badly wounded the last time I saw him.”

“I believe so. I will be contacting him shortly to check up on him. If he was unwell, I do believe that Diamondfang or Adamantheart would already have reached out to me.” Doomwing flexed his wings the same way a man might stretch their legs after sitting too long. “I have others I need to speak to. I look forward to hearing of your victory, Marcus. Naturally, I will be happy to report my own success when we next speak.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marcus said, grinning. “It was nice talking to you too. Let me know if anything important happens and definitely let me know if Frostfang decides to head south. Hopefully, I can convince my enemies to pick a fight with him.”