The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon - Chapter 9: The Princess Is Rewarded

Chapter 9: The Princess Is Rewarded

Antaria flopped onto her back and stared up at the sky. She’d grown quite accustomed to this over the past few weeks. Each day had bled into the next, an endless cycle of training until she collapsed from exhaustion followed by learning in her dreams at night. Rather than continue to more advanced techniques, Doomwing had insisted on ruthlessly honing her ability to absorb magic from her surroundings and then circulate it through her body.

It was not enough that she could perform those techniques while meditating. No. He would not be satisfied until performing those techniques was as easy and instinctive as breathing. He’d even gone so far as to smuggle multiple monsters into her house at night while she was sleeping to test if she had remembered to put up defensive and security magic and to see if she could perform those techniques when she’d just woken up and while being attacked by the aforementioned monsters.

She had hurled the severed head of one of those monsters – some kind of giant rat thing with glowing fangs – at his construct with all the strength she could muster. To her disgust, he’d disintegrated it with a single spell before admonishing her on her technique. If she was going to throw the severed head of a giant rat at him with the intent to kill, then there was a proper way to do that… a proper way that Elerion had apparently devised centuries ago because, of course, he had.

Part of her was really beginning to dislike her ancient ancestor. That man seemed to have been good at just about everything. At the same time, however, Antaria felt a certain sense of kinship with him that went beyond whatever distant blood ties they shared. Just like her, he had been subjected to the murderous farce that Doomwing liked to call training, and just like her his attempts to get back at the dragon had failed miserably. If only Doomwing would share more of what Elerion had tried. At least that way she’d know what not to do when trying to get back at him.

“Your performance has been acceptable,” Doomwing said as his construct stopped beside her. “As a reward for your hard work, I will be teaching you a basic rune.”

Antaria sat up quickly. “You will?” she asked excitedly before realising that this had to be some kind of trap. “What’s the catch? Am I going to explode if I get it wrong?”

“No.” Doomwing’s construct smiled thinly. “But you may experience severe brain damage if you fail to learn it.”

“…” Antaria took a deep, deep breath. “I just knew it was going to be something like that. Okay. Fine. What rune are you going to teach me?”

“It is one of the basic runes for strength.” Doomwing motioned for her to stand, and she hurried to her feet. She had learned the hard way that dawdling would only see her workload increased even further. “It is the first basic rune that I will be teaching you and arguably the most important.”

“Why is that?” Antaria asked.

“The three types of basic runes that are most commonly used in battle are runes associated with strength, speed, and endurance. However, the rune for strength is almost always learned first. Why do you think that is?”

Antaria pursed her lips. “Because being stronger is useful in combat.” Doomwing’s construct gave her a stare so flat it would have levelled a mountain. “Hey! It’s not like I know a lot about runes!”

“What you need to understand is that runes are not like the pathetic magic you have learned so far. Normal magic exerts your will upon the world. The bigger the change, the more power it will require. Moreover, the world is naturally resistant to exterior change. The more you try to change things, the more the world will resist. That is why permanently changing your body with a regular spell is pretty much impossible. When you use a normal spell to strengthen yourself, you are using your power to increase your strength. When you use a rune to increase your strength, then you become stronger, at least for a while.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Antaria asked.

“No.” Doomwing’s construct shook its head. “Your power is limited and weak, so your ability to enhance your strength is likewise limited and weak. Moreover, regular spells that enhance your strength will seldom last long and will take a terrible toll on your body if overused. A basic rune for strength will be far more effective, will last far longer, and will not ruin your body from repeated usage, provided you are using the right rune and can form it correctly.”

Antaria’s eyes narrowed. “That sound like all upside.”

“Only if you can do it right. If you do it wrong, you will either give yourself brain damage or suffer a number of other consequences, all of which are highly unpleasant. A rune asks the world to do something, and the world itself will make the changes you desire. This means runes are both incredibly powerful and also capable of tremendous self-injury if not used or formed properly. The reason you should learn a basic rune for strength first is because knowing it will not only increase your strength in multiple ways but will also provide with some level of protection should you make a mistake with other basic runes.”

“That makes sense.” Antaria nodded. “So… how do I learn this rune?”

“Watch.” The construct took a step away from her, and then a symbol formed in the air in front of it.

Antaria squinted at the symbol in a bid to get a proper look at it. However, it was hazy and indistinct, almost like looking at a cloud of steam and –

“Get up.”

Antaria realised she was on her back again. She opened her eyes and then reached up to touch her face. There was blood on her face.

“You are bleeding from your eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. However, none of your injuries are fatal, and you do not appear to have brain damage. I will draw the rune again. Watch closely and try not to pass out again.”

She staggered back to her feet and fought the urge to empty her stomach. Oh, wait, she’d already done that earlier today during training. “Okay. I’ll get it this time.”

The construct drew the rune out again and… and this time she saw it. It was blurry at first, but the longer she stared at it, the clearer it became. It was… difficult to describe, a pattern that defied everything she knew about geometry logic, yet it was right there, as clear to her now as the sun in the sky. Her eyes began to sting, but she forced herself to keep looking until the image of the rune was burned into her mind.

“I… I think I’ve got it,” she said.

“Good.” Doomwing’s voice carried a faint hint of approval. “Not bad. You only passed out once, and none of your injuries were serious enough to require healing magic. Now, draw the rune using your soul.”

“…” Antaria’s jaw dropped. “Draw it with my soul? What does that even mean?”

“Ah. Right.” Doomwing’s construct shrugged. “Only someone with a soul can use runes, and the runes must be drawn with the soul. Yes, most people will make gestures while drawing it, but with sufficient practice, those gestures are not required. Think of your soul as a hand holding a paintbrush and your magic as the paint.”

“I’m not sure that helps.” Antaria could feel a headache coming on. She sincerely hoped it wasn’t due to brain damage. “Look… just… how do I use my soul to do stuff?”

“You must have noticed that your body naturally produces magic within you. It most likely appears as something similar to a flame growing within your body even when you aren’t absorbing magic from outside sources. The source of that flame is your soul. Imagine your soul twisting that flame into the shape of the rune and then trace that shape into the air.”

“But that shape doesn’t make sense,” Antaria replied. “It’s…” She didn’t have the words for it. It was as if space itself couldn’t fit the rune, yet there it was.

“Just do it,” Doomwing insisted. “And you will understand.”

Antaria’s jaw clenched. That was easy for him to say. But fine. She could do it!

Or not.

Seven times she tried to make the rune according to his instructions, and seven times she failed. But on her eighth attempt, she succeeded. Eyes wide, she stared in confused fascination at the shape shimmering in the air in front of her.

Strength.

The word echoed through her soul as much as her ears. That was what the rune meant. Strength.

“Interesting. I thought it would take you a little longer.” Doomwing chuckled. “Now, for the next step. You have made the rune. Do it again but instead of simply tracing it in the air, think of what you would like to affect with it. Aim for yourself.”

Antaria swallowed thickly. She could feel the raw power in the rune, and now she’d be using it on herself. “Is this dangerous?”

“What do you think?”

“Ah. Right. I don’t know why I asked.” She took a deep breath. “If I blow my arms and legs off, please put them back on.” She drew the rune again and thought of how much she wanted it to affect her. “Here goes… oh.”

It was… it was…

Awesome.

Only a moment ago, she’d felt utterly exhausted. Now? She felt strong, strong in a way she never had been before. Her fists clenched, and she could feel the power raging through her. She wasn’t just stronger. She was… more everything in a way that was difficult to put into words. She felt like she could turn a boulder into powder with a single punch. She felt like she could swing a sword with the strength to carve through a tower. She felt like the whole world could turn against her and she’d be able to hold her ground.

It was amazing.

“Not bad.” Doomwing’s construct grabbed hold of a nearby boulder and then threw it at her. “Catch!”

“Ah!” Antaria shrieked. The boulder was moving too fast for her to dodge. Instead, she threw up her arms and fell into a defensive stance.

And the boulder shattered against her.

“I see… you really do share Elerion’s knack for runes devoted to enhancement.”

Antaria stared at the broken bits of boulder on the ground around her. Her eyes gleamed, and she felt the sudden urge to kick the construct again. Surely, this time she could –

“Don’t even think about it. You’d need at least a lesser rune of strength before you could kick this construct and not break your leg.”

“Damn it,” she muttered.

“The rune will last for a while. We will now train so that you can get used to your increased strength. Once the rune wears off, you will cast it again.” Doomwing’s construct loped toward her. “Now that you are a little tougher, I can also increase the strength of my own blows. Prepare yourself.”

“Oh… bother.”

“Do you want to know why I haven’t introduced you to the villagers yet?” Doomwing asked.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Antaria glared at him. Even with the rune in effect, she was still no match for his construct. “Why?”

“It was leadership that allowed Elerion to truly unify his kingdoms and usher in an age of unrivalled prosperity, but it was strength that made those kingdoms kneel to him in the first place. He became so powerful that the very idea of opposing him didn’t even cross the minds of the rulers of those kingdoms. They took one look at him and realised that they could either serve him or die. He didn’t even have to say it. They knew.” Doomwing’s construct bared its teeth. “If you were to invoke my name and power, there is not a single person in my territory who would oppose you. But is that how you want to rule?”

Antaria shook her head. “I want to be recognised for my own abilities.”

“Yes. And for that to happen, you need to make the right impression. I have told the villagers to avoid this place until I feel you are ready.”

“And when will I be ready?”

“You will be ready when you have the sort of power that makes it completely logical for them to kneel before you and obey, even without me telling them to do so. They will look at you, see what sort of person you are, and realise that obeying is the most natural and sensible thing in the world to do.”

Antaria nodded slowly. “And when will that be?”

“When you have developed sufficient mastery of the three basic runes that I mentioned.” Doomwing’s construct picked up a stick. “So far, you have been using the basic rune of strength to enhance yourself. Did you know you can use it on other things too?” He used the rune and then swung the stick at the ground. The ground exploded from the impact, and Antaria stared in disbelief at the crater that had been left behind. “You can make yourself stronger, and you can make the stick stronger.” Despite the force of the impact, the stick hadn’t so much as cracked. “What do you think would happen if you swung a sword like that?”

Antaria could imagine it. She immediately reached for her sword, but Doomwing tossed the stick at her.

“Practice with the stick first. If you get it wrong, you’ll shatter the stick, which is fine. We’ve got a dryad, so we’re not going to run out of sticks. However, you only have a single sword.” His construct’s eyes gleamed. “And who’s to say you can’t use another rune on yourself and your weapon. Imagine using the runes for strength and speed on yourself and on your sword. Who knows what you’ll be able to do then?”

Antaria had to fight the urge to drool.

She could see it now. Impossibly swift strikes cleaving through solid rock like it was paper. Dozens of enemies defeated in an impossibly swift whirlwind of steel as her blows either cleaved through her foes with ease or sent them flying through the air like rag dolls. If she had possessed power like that before, she wouldn’t have needed an elite strike force to depose her father. She could have cut her way through the royal guards on her own before dealing with him personally. She might even be able to smash Doomwing’s construct too!

“Hah!” Antaria threw her head back and laughed as she tightened her hold on the stick and began to weave the rune around it. “Hahahaha!”

Doomwing watched her cackle madly and almost smiled. There was nothing quite like watching someone grasp the implications of runes for the very first time. The fact that she was clearly imagining breaking his construct into tiny pieces was fine. It meant she was motivated to learn.

Daphne was enjoying a pleasant dream about spring rains and blooming flowers when her surroundings changed to resemble a library. Doomwing was there.

“Wait!” Daphne cringed and backed away. “I’ve been working hard just like you told me!”

“I am not in your dreams to punish you,” Doomwing replied. A book appeared in front of her. “I have almost completed my purification and expansion of the currents of magic that flow through my territory. However, it occurred to me that since you now serve me, there is no reason why more exotic plants cannot be grown in my lands.” He nodded at the book. “Look through that book and tell me which ones you think will be able to grow in my territory with your aid.”

Daphne opened the book. It was a botanical treatise that detailed a great many different plants. Some she was familiar with, but others she had only ever seen in the fleeting, disorganised memories she had received from Mother Tree. And there were even others she’d never heard of before, but the book provided detailed descriptions of not only their appearance but also their abilities and what conditions were best for them.

Quite a few of the plants had magical properties, but others were simply exotic crops that did not normally grow in this part of the world. A greedy voice inside her clamoured at the thought of being able to nurture these plants with her power. To see them grow in endless fields all around her or perhaps in guarded groves… what self-respecting dryad wouldn’t want that?

“How many of them can you get?” Daphne asked.

“I will be leaving soon to acquire tree-folk to serve and protect you. While I am out, I will acquire whatever plants can be obtained without too much effort.”

“And by too much effort, do you mean too much effort for a normal person… or too much effort for you?” Daphne asked.

“For me.” Doomwing smiled toothily. “Many of these plants are the pride of the elves. They’re always boasting about how only they can grow them, but that’s a lie. The only reason they have access to them is because they built their societies around dryads. Now, I have a dryad, and I want to shut them up.”

“That’s a little, you know, petty.”

“Yes, it is.” Doomwing leaned forward. “But tell me, Daphne, don’t you want to have those plants too? Don’t you want to be the envy of all your fellow dryads? I’m sure you thought about it while you were trapped in that blighted land with nothing more than memories of better times to sustain you. You might be young for a dryad, but you have the strength of a primordial dragon to support you. Isn’t it time you became a little greedier?”

Daphne glanced from Doomwing to the book. The plants inside were very tempting, and she had often despaired about how she must have compared to her older sisters and the other dryads. More than once, a bird had arrived from a distant land bearing stories of another dryad. Every single time, Daphne had felt small and pathetic compared to those dryads. No more. She’d get all of these plants, and the next time a bird arrived, it would leave carrying stories about her that would make the other dryads envious!

“Get as many as you can,” Daphne said at last. “I’ll find a way to make it work.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

William had been the headman of the village for more than fifty years. Most of those years had been wonderfully boring, but not this year. No. This year had seen the village attacked by soldiers and much of their crops and livestock destroyed. But they had been avenged. The dragon himself had awakened and laid waste to their foes.

It had been a few months now since he had flown west and then returned. He had brought with him a large tree, and he had planted it roughly a mile and a half from the village. Naturally, William and the others had been curious about the tree, but the dragon had forbidden them approaching it. The message had been delivered by a dragon-shaped construct of some kind, but the voice coming from the construct had undoubtedly belonged to the dragon himself.

Today, though, the dragon had bid them to approach the tree. William had asked for a dozen of the village’s stoutest young men to accompany him, and they had set off for the tree, uncertain of what they would find. The great dragon was not there. He had departed not long ago and had yet to return.

They reached the tree and found themselves greeted by a young woman.

Her clothes were worn and faded, and the sword she carried was battered and dented. There were even smudges of dirt on her face and dried blood in her hair. But she was somehow the single most magnificent person that William had ever laid eyes on.

She had raven black hair and violet eyes, and her features were somewhere between beautiful and ferocious. But it was her presence that caught his attention, that made him want to fall to his knees and press his forehead to the dirt.

Power.

That was what this woman radiated. Her gaze drifted over him and the dozen young men he’d brought along, and she instantly dismissed them as threats. In her eyes, they were as dangerous as ants crawling along the ground. Was it arrogance? No. His instincts were screaming at him that her confidence was well earned that if she wanted, she could kill every single one of them with the same amount of effort it would have taken him to squash a bug. He had been scared when the soldiers had attacked the village, but he knew – he just knew – that if this woman ever drew a weapon on him, he would be absolutely terrified.

“I… I am here, just like the mighty dragon asked.”

The woman sighed. “I’m guessing Doomwing didn’t tell you anything else then?”

She was on a first name basis with the dragon? What… what sort of person was she to use his name so casually.

“Pardon, my lady,” he said cautiously. “But… who are you?”

“Me?” The woman’s lips twitched. “My name is Antaria. I am his… student.”

The dragon had a student? No wonder she was so powerful. He would only have taken the most promising and mighty individuals as students.

“Doomwing is currently occupied,” Antaria said. “However, he ordered me to take control of the villages in his territory.”

“He did?”

“Yes.” Antaria scowled. “His exact words were: I had better see improvements when I get back. You know what to do, so do it.” She drove her heel into the ground, and it cracked beneath her. “I am told that you have something of a monster problem.”

William nodded. “Yes. I am no great wizard, but I can sense the flow of magic in my surroundings. There is more magic around us now than ever before. It has made the monsters bolder and stronger. It will be hard to plant more crops while they are around, and I do not know if we’ll even have the time to plant and harvest another set of crops before winter comes…”

“Daphne,” Antaria said.

Another woman emerged from the tree. That is, she came out of the tree itself. She must be a dryad or some other kind of tree spirit. William had heard stories about them although he’d never met one. “I can handle it,” Daphne said.

“Daphne is a dryad. With her aid, you will be able to get your crops ready in time.”

“And the monsters?” William asked.

Antaria bared her teeth. It reminded William very much of how a dragon might smile. “Leave them to me.”