The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon - Chapter 29: The Dragon Educates

Chapter 29: The Dragon Educates

Ashheart quite enjoyed the sensation of flying even if he had never been as good at it as some of his peers. His flight had always possessed a workmanlike quality whereas Dawnscale had flown as if the winds themselves were with her. Nevertheless, he was no slouch in the air, and he knew how to leverage his strength and size to either cripple his opponents in a single blow or drive them to the ground where he was almost guaranteed to have the advantage.

But now was the not the time for such thoughts. Now, he was sharing the skies with Diamondfang and Adamantheart, and a feast awaited them. It had been many, many years since he had tasted fresh fish, whale, kraken, or leviathan. Being encased in the mountain had saved his life, and the great currents of magic that had been bent to nourish his wounded form had not only healed his injuries but also added to his power. But although magic could substitute for food in many ways, it could not fill his belly or please his palate. Food preferably fresh food was required for that.

“Will there be other dragons there?” Ashheart asked. “If food is as plentiful as you say, it would not surprise me if there were.”

Diamondfang banked toward him. “Yes. The great migrations of whales are also accompanied by vast numbers of fish. The abundance of prey also lures leviathans and krakens from the depths, along with sea serpents and other predators. There is something there for dragons of every size and age.”

Adamantheart nodded. “We have friends who come at least once every few years. Some are of an age with mother whilst others are closer to my age.”

“Are there squabbles?” Ashheart asked. He did not much care for the squabbles that often occurred when dragons had to share space. He would prefer to enjoy his meal with Diamondfang and Adamantheart in peace. Of course, he was a primordial dragon. If he wanted peace, he doubted that any of the other dragons would gainsay him. And if they did, he would be happy to teach them a lesson.

“Every now and then,” Adamantheart said. “But nothing too serious although”

Ashheart’s eyes narrowed. That pause was suspicious. “Speak freely.”

“As of late, there has been trouble. A dragon named Tideweaver has been making trouble. He recently achieved his Fourth Awakening, and he has been throwing his weight around ever since. There are rules about how much can be taken from the sea, and he has tried to encourage others to flout them.”

“Rules?” Ashheart tried to remember who Tideweaver was. The name was vaguely familiar. He had certainly heard it before. He could try using memory magic, but his memory magic was adequate at best. It might be better to ask them instead. “What kind of rules?”

“During the early Sixth Age, too much was taken from the sea,” Diamondfang explained. “And each year there were fewer and fewer fish, whales, and other prey. Doomwing created rules governing how much could be taken from the sea and what sort of animals could be slain.”

“Oh?”

“Amongst whales, for example, no mothers or calves are to be taken. It took a few centuries, but the seas were soon as full of prey as they had ever been. Since then, all have followed the rules, and there is more to prey upon each year as a result. However, some, like Tideweaver, wish to flout the rules and gorge themselves once more, claiming that prey is now so plentiful that the rules no longer apply.”

“Hmm” It reminded Ashheart of something Mother Tree had once explained to him when he had been only a hatchling. Dragons were voracious eaters. More than once, they had almost wiped out entire species with their appetites, only stopping when Mother Tree herself or the First Gods had exerted their powers. Mothers with young were often the easiest prey to catch, but killing them would only ensure that there were fewer to eat in the future. Doomwing must have remembered her lessons and put them into practice. “What of this Tideweaver? Who is he?”

“He is the son of Fathombinder, which has only heightened his arrogance. Since Doomwing entered seclusion after the Sixth Catastrophe, he has grown increasingly arrogant, and he has invoked his father’s name more than once to cow others into submission. It was not so bad before he achieved his Fourth Awakening. I was able to drive him off on more than one occasion. However, with his Fourth Awakening, I can no longer fight him on even footing,” Diamondfang said.

“That is understandable.” From what he remembered, Diamondfang was a vicious and tenacious fighter. Dragons of her lineage were relatively quick but also incredibly durable. She had preferred to close in, ripping and tearing at her foes, weakening them with wound after wound until they could no longer resist. Her swiftness made her difficult to hit, and her toughness allowed her to withstand the blows that did manage to connect. However, she had only undergone her Third Awakening. Against a dragon who had achieved their Fourth Awakening, it would be difficult for her to win. “So he is one of Fathombinder’s get?”

Fathombinder was another primordial dragon an oceanic dragon who had done much to help them in the battle against the Lord of the Tides. Ashheart had not dealt with him much, for they were two very different types of dragons, but he remembered Fathombinder as being a reliable dragon, one given to cold fury and unwavering resolve. If what Adamantheart said of Tideweaver was true, then the whelp must have grown arrogant and proud, secure in the knowledge that his father would aid him if things took a turn for the worst.

Yes. He could remember Tideweaver now. Doomwing had mentioned him in passing during the Fifth Age, saying the whelp had advanced quickly through his Awakenings although he had wondered if Fathombinder was coddling him. It was true that coddling could only do so much especially for a Fourth Awakening but it would be foolish to underestimate the resources at a primordial dragon’s command.

At the very least, Fathombinder could ensure that his son had the best places to gather power, as well as access to all manner of rare and exotic materials to ease his Awakening. It might seem indulgent, but Ashheart could not blame the other dragon for doing what he could to aid his son. However, if Tideweaver wished to play the part of a fool, then Ashheart would be happy to educate him. It could even be considered a mercy, for Doomwing would be far less gentle when he learned that someone was trying to flout his rules.

Doomwing had always been fond of rules.

“Yes.” Diamondfang scowled, and her opalescent eyes narrowed into slits. “He has even approached me.”

Ashheart’s molten heart crackled, and the volcanic glow emanating from between his scales blazed. “In what way?”

“He wishes to take me for his mate,” she said. “Saying that he doubts you will ever awaken.”

“Hah!” Ashheart threw his head back and laughed. “The whelp has courage, for all that he is foolish. But courage alone is not enough, and a fool is still a fool. Let me deal with him.”

Tideweaver flared his wings and preened. The dragons who had gathered to partake in the rich bounty of the sea all regarded him warily, as well they should. He had achieved his Fourth Awakening, and he was an oceanic dragon. The waters of the world harkened to his call, and with the sea at his back, he was all but invincible.

It would not be long before Diamondfang and her son arrived. The boy was brave and hardy no match at all for Tideweaver but still worthy of respect. But his true interest lay in Diamondfang. The female dragon was magnificent with her gleaming scales and lithe, sinuous frame. It was as if she was wrought of gemstones. Every movement made her shine with myriad mineral lights, and it was clear from her son that she was more than capable of birthing strong hatchlings.

Tideweaver wanted her, but she had stubbornly refused his advances. And for what? A dragon who lay silent and all but dead in a mountain? Bah! Ashheart might have been a primordial dragon, but what good was he? He had not stirred even once during the Sixth Age, and even if he did emerge from that mountain of his, he was likely to be weak and frail after so long slumbering.

He had pushed his suit again after achieving his Fourth Awakening, but she had again rebuffed him. She had even invoked Doomwing’s name as if that slumbering fool had any say in the world. True, Doomwing had been mighty, but he had been wounded almost to his death by the Sixth Catastrophe. He had retreated to his lair and had only been seen once a century.

His father had cautioned him to be careful, but Tideweaver was confident. He was strong and would only get stronger. It was only a matter of time before Diamondfang acknowledged his worth and accepted his suit. They would have many strong hatchlings, and he would even help Adamantheart continue to advance. After all, the younger dragon was her hatchling, and he clearly had potential. It would be foolish not to win him over too.

He was about to dive into the water to seek out his first whale of the day when he felt a maelstrom of power approaching. He was not the only one who felt it either. The lesser dragons around him looked about furtively, unsure of whether they should flee or seek his protection. He took a deep breath then unleashed a long, bellowing cry.

He was Tideweaver! He was an oceanic dragon! He feared no one!

The roar that answered him sent a shiver through his body, as an emotion he had thought he had left behind after his Fourth Awakening filled him.

Fear. Primal, instinctive fear.

For the roar that had answered him was less a peal of thunder and more a thunderstorm in full. It shook the sky, and the seas behind him trembled before it. He looked to the south. Was that a cloud of ash?

No. It was not just a cloud of ash. It was a dragon, the largest dragon he had ever seen. Like a living volcano, the dragon seemed to fill the entire sky, and a vast cloud of molten ash and smoke followed in his wake, like a fiery thunderhead ripped straight from the burning heart of the earth.

Power, the likes of which he had only ever felt in the presence of his father, filled the air, and he realised, at last, who was flying toward him.

World-Shaker.

Mountain-Breaker.

Earth-Binder.

Lava-Caller.

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Volcano-Bringer.

Ashheart, the largest of all living dragons. Swallowing thickly, Tideweaver realised that the older dragon’s slumber had not left him frail or weak. On the contrary, he was bursting with vitality and might. This was the dragon his father had spoken of as the strongest and most durable, the dragon who had shrugged off blows that would have killed other primordial dragons with little more than a laugh and a bloody smile.

The other dragons scattered as Ashheart approached until he was only a mile away. He stayed in the air, his massive body kept aloft by the steady beating of titanic wings. Baleful orange light shone from within his scales, and his twisted, jagged scales shone from within as if lit by currents of lava. Vast coils of rippling muscle shifted beneath his scales, and his very presence exuded unmatched physical power. But worst of all were those eyes. It was like staring into the heart of the world.

And those eyes they looked at him, at Tideweaver who had achieved his Fourth Awakening, and they dismissed him as a threat.

Tideweaver’s blood boiled. He was no whelp! He had achieved his Fourth Awakening! His father had helped, yes, but he had worked hard! He had trained until his bones broke and his body bled! He had honed every aspect of his being until nothing could be found wanting! He had searched far and wide for the things he needed that his father could not provide, and he had fought monsters of great power to acquire them!

He was an oceanic dragon now, the same kind of dragon as his father. He would not be looked down upon!

“So you are Tideweaver,” Ashheart drawled. “You are as small as I remember.”

Tideweaver’s jaw clenched, and the waters behind him began to writhe as his magic surged to life. He was smaller than Ashheart, but so was every other dragon. Even his father could not match Ashheart in size. But Tideweaver was no hatchling, no puny, stunted dragon. He was three quarters of a mile long!

“You must be Ashheart,” Tideweaver replied. “They say you are a great warrior. Perhaps you could demonstrate your skills.”

Ashheart smiled. It sent another shiver down Tideweaver’s spine. “Gladly. I wonder, though, are you the warrior your father is?”

Tideweaver’s claws dug into the sand beneath him, and his wings tensed. Ashheart was twice his size, but he was clearly not the most gifted flier. He could try to whittle him down by using his greater speed and agility in the air to gradually weaken him, but that was a strategy fraught with peril. A single blow from the larger dragon might be enough to end the fight.

No.

He had the sea at his back, and he was an oceanic dragon. Ashheart was a tectonic dragon. He would be weaker in the water.

Yes.

Tideweaver would use the environment to his advantage. Ashheart was said to have a heart that burned with all the heat of the molten centre of the world, but not even such heat could withstand the quenching depths of the ocean.

Above him, Ashheart waited, as if daring him to make the first attack. Very well. He would use his arrogance against him. He would drag him into the depths and prove his strength by defeating him!

Tideweaver roared, and the sea erupted. Runes of water, binding, and trapping flared to life, and the sea itself rose up like a gigantic claw, seizing Ashheart and dragging him out of the air and away from the shore. Bellowing his fury, Tideweaver followed, pouring more and more power into the attack as the raging torrent drove Ashheart deep beneath the surface, shoving him away from the continental shelf and into the endless darkness of the deep.

Was this all the power a primordial dragon possessed?

Hah!

Ashheart must have been putting on a brave front while actually being far weaker than he appeared. It was his own fault for bluffing. Did he truly think that Tideweaver was a coward who would run from a fight? Never! Now, Tideweaver would seize victory. The glory of defeating a primordial dragon would be his! He was no fool, so he would not slay Ashheart. Instead, he would extract promises of wealth from him. His hoard was bound to have priceless treasures within it, and they would all be Tideweaver’s! Once Ashheart was defeated, Diamondfang would come to her senses. He would not have to seek her out. No. She would seek him out!

“A fine strike,” Ashheart rumbled as they descended into the depths. He slammed into the sea floor with enough force to carve out a crater several miles wide. “You struck swiftly and without hesitation, using what was likely your strongest attack. You also dragged me into the ocean where you thought you would have the advantage. Even now, I can feel your power in the waters around me. The pressure here is tremendous, and your power has amplified it thousands of times over. Your father must have trained you well, and you must have worked hard to reach this level. However”

The pitch-black of the fathomless deep gave way to volcanic orange. Stifling, mind-boggling heat began to emanate from Ashheart, so intense that Tideweaver was forced to retreat. He, a dragon, was forced to retreat in the face of heat! Impossible!

“I am Ashheart,” the primordial dragon growled. The water around him boiled and was blasted away by a sudden eruption of searing ash. He was shining almost like a star, his scales gleaming like fresh lava as the entire ocean trembled, the sheer force of the boiling water and burning ash clearing away the ocean and leaving a broad column bereft of water that stretched all the way back up to the surface. “I was the one who wrestled the Lord of the Tides. He tried to drown me, and he failed. Compared to him, you are nothing.”

Tideweaver tried to flee, but he was too slow. Ashheart launched himself upward, and the impact when the larger dragon hit him transformed his entire world into pain. He bit and clawed frantically, and he called upon every spell and rune he could think of. Water spewed from his mouth, only to instantly boil into steam before the raw heat blazing from Ashheart.

And then they were out of the water, and he was slammed into the beach. Dimly, he was aware of Ashheart looking down at him with those eyes, those eyes that had never once seen him as a threat. He wanted to roar, to rage, to get back up and fight, but his body refused to obey. How was this possible? He had achieved his Fourth Awakening! Ashheart was older than him, yes, but could the difference truly be this large? Impossible!

Somehow, he forced himself up onto his haunches. He did not know how many of his bones were broken. It had to be most of them. He could barely even open his jaws. Yet still, his pride and his desire to prove himself drove him to stay on his feet. This was no longer about Diamondfang or anything else. All that mattered was changing the look in those eyes. Just once, he wanted to see those eyes acknowledge him as a threat. Just once, he wanted this primordial dragon to consider him an equal!

He roared and then lumbered forward, all of his remaining strength thrown into a single blow only to be batted aside with a flick of Ashheart’s tail. He crashed to the ground in a heap and darkness closed in.

Ashheart watched the younger dragon collapse to the ground unconscious. “He wasn’t half bad,” he rumbled as Diamondfang and Adamantheart came forward.

The female dragon tilted her head to the side. “Is that so?”

“His attack was worthy of a dragon who had achieved their Fourth Awakening. It would certainly have felled its fair share of dragons at that level. However much help Fathombinder has given him, he has clearly worked hard to make the most of it.”

“Were you in any danger?” Adamantheart asked.

Ashheart chuckled. “No. He never stood a chance. I simply wished to see what sort of attack he would use. He chose well, but the difference between us is simply too great.” His gaze drifted to the horizon where another oceanic dragon was approaching. It was Fathombinder.

The other primordial dragon soon arrived. “Ashheart.”

“Fathombinder.”

The oceanic dragon’s scales shimmered, a captivating mix of cerulean, sapphire, azure, and the darker shades of blue nearing black that could only be found in the depths of the oceans and seas of the world. “My son appears to have acquired some injuries.”

“A challenge between two dragons,” Ashheart replied. “Nothing more.”

“Is that so?” Fathombinder’s magic reached out, probing his son’s injuries. “Hmm nothing a bit of healing magic won’t fix.” He bared his teeth. “I had warned him about pursuing your mate, but the boy is too stubborn for his own good. His Fourth Awakening went well, and it has made him a tad”

“Arrogant?” Ashheart asked.

“Yes. But such arrogance is not uncommon for those whose Fourth Awakening goes so smoothly. This fight should serve as a stern reminder that he still has a long way to go, that his Fourth Awakening is not the end of his journey, merely the beginning.”

“He fought well,” Ashheart said. “He struck swiftly and without hesitation, and he took full advantage of his surroundings. A lesser dragon than myself might easily have fallen before him. You should be proud.”

“I am.” Fathombinder began to cast healing magic. “His mother will not be pleased that I allowed this to occur, but such defeats will do much to further his growth.” He inclined his head. “You have my thanks, Ashheart, and I am glad to see you well.”

“It is good to see you too, Fathombinder.” He gestured vaguely at the beach. The other dragons had returned, no doubt sensing the end of hostilities. “Will you be eating anything? There is supposed to be plenty of good prey here.”

“Another time,” Fathombinder replied. “I will take my son and go.”

“Until then,” Ashheart replied.

Fathombinder left, carrying Tideweaver in his claws. Ashheart watched them go. The whelp had acquitted himself well, for all that he had been defeated. He was young and foolish, but time would change that. From what Diamondfang had told him, Tideweaver had never pushed his suit too far. Instead, each attempt had been accompanied by displays of strength and power as he sought to convince her that he was a fine choice for a mate. He had been persistent, yes, but he had accepted each rejection, waiting another decade or two before trying again. Had he overstepped himself, then Ashheart would have been far less merciful.

“Well” Ashheart said, turning back to his mate and his son. “Shall we go get something to eat?”