Nights of Dragons and Genies

The territory of Raithwall was the most southern peninsula of the continent, past the Raithwall Mountain Range. The mountains were too high for most aviary species to safely fly over, cursed with a near-endless blizzard for most of the year… save for the three months past the New Cachou Moon, when the blizzard let up just enough for most safe flights through the mountain range. Otherwise, you’d have to travel by foot through the monster-infested Bloodfang Canyon just to get to and from Raithwall… provided that either the Waning Scalieon Moon had not yet given way to the New Lampras Moon, which would cause the pass to fill with a hazardous snow-fall.

Luckily, for Gargec, his brother had forced him to come through the region on the New Cachou Moon, which made the trek through Bloodfang Canyon manageable. It was still monster-infested, as the two were battling a pack of manticores in their humanoid forms, but it was manageable for two dragons.

Gargec blocked one of the manticore’s swipes with its fierce paws with the handle of his hammer, the creature snarling at him as it tried to overpower him. The hill-dwarf disguised dragon looked to his younger brother, who was evading attacks from a pair of manticores, and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to borrow either Witherbrand or Mallius?”

“First, why the hell do you name those weak smallfolk tools?” Stratreo asked, punching a manticore with a tremendous amount of force, sending it flying into a tree. Both brothers heard a brutal snap as the body of the creature fell limp. “Second, I’m pretty confident I’ve got this. You’re the one who lacks pride, hiding behind that hammer!”

“I’m a blacksmith!” Gargec replied, pushing back against the manticore, causing the creature to slide several meters back, much to its surprise. However, that surprise lasted for all of five seconds before Gargec was upon it to swing his hammer to the side, crushing the creature’s ribcage in with the weapon plus his draconic strength. “Got to make sure the weapons get tested!” He then turned and slammed his hammer into the skull of another manticore, quickly killing it. “If a sword or a hammer’s a bit much, I’m pretty sure I have a dagger I can lend you!”

“It’s an insult to dragon-kind!” Stratreo retorted, grabbing a younger manticore that tried to pounce on him in mid-lunge by the throat. As he choked it, he said, “You have fallen very low, brother, since that trial!”

“Had to bring that up, didn’t you?” Gargec asked, pulling a dagger out of his boot, pressing another enchantment, and tossing the now bright red blade into the side of an ambushing manticore. The manticore roared in agony as it was engulfed in a small fire. As he sent three more manticores flying, he declared, “I made my choice back then! Do I regret it? Perhaps, but at the time, it was worth it!”

“I had that under control!” Stratreo insisted, dropping the now choked to death manticore. “And only one burnt body? No, no… you need to do THIS!” He inhaled and unleashed a stream of fire, engulfing several manticores, melting the snow, and burning a few trees in the canyon pass. After he stopped breathing fire, Stratreo turned to his older brother, who placed his hammer away and smirked. “As you can tell, I’ve grown much, much stronger than the last time you've seen me! This is just a sample of what I can do."

“Well, not how I would have resolved that, so close to the mountains,” Gargec observed, casually reclaiming his fire-enchanted dagger. Stratreo looked at his brother in confusion… before the mountain shook. Gargec turned into his draconic form, looked at his brother, and complained, “Dragon breath attacks can cause avalanches, you idiot!” He grabbed Stratreo before beginning to fly through the rest of the canyon.

“Let go of me!” Stratreo growled.

“No!” Gargec answered right as the avalanche started barreling down the mountain after him. He flapped his large, body-sized wings as fast as possible, but the snow was catching up to try to fill the canyon. “Was that necessary!?”

“Why aren’t you using your fire breath?” Stratreo asked.

“I’m not going to risk making this worse!” Gargec looked at the end of the canyon and realized how the walls were tightening. “...Okay, new plan…” Gargec threw his brother up into the sky ahead of him, sending Stratreo screaming, only to land on Gargec’s back.

“What the hell was that about!?” Stratreo asked.

“Grab Mallius!” Gargec ordered.

“What!?”

“Grab my damn hammer!” The younger brother looked incredulous at the order but begrudgingly obeyed, crawling to the spine that had the war hammer tied to it. He untied the hammer, and held it up, gritting his teeth at how heavy it weighed.

“What did you DO with this thing?” Stratreo questioned.

“Trigger the enchantment, and throw it forward! I’ll catch it!” Stratreo found the rune and pressed it. The hammer seemed to grow heavier, but Stratreo gritted his teeth and chucked it… to see it grow into the size useable by an adult dragon.

Which made it the perfect weapon for Gargec, who grabbed it in midair, and swung it, smashing through the sides of the canyon pass to allow Gargec to tuck his wings in and slip through the mouth of the canyon, stumbling into the forest, hitting quite a few rocks and trees, but sparing the brothers from the worst of the avalanche. The war hammer had crashed through quite a bit of the forest trail, making a crater nearby. Gargec returned to his dwarf form while Stratreo got off of his back, and the older brother rolled onto his back.

“Ow,” he declared. Stratreo looked at his older brother.

“Are you still alive?” Gargec groaned in pain. “Good… now when you’re done bleeding, get up, get your little tool, and prepare to be carried the rest of the way since we’re now in Raithwall territory. We’ve come way too far for you to try to squirm out of this, now.” He walked away to find enough room to transform.

Gargec groaned at that remark. “You’re welcome, you jerk.”

An hour later, Stratreo’s dragon form flew over the forest and found a clearing, which housed a large, walled citadel that looked rather populated, with a stone castle in the middle that had a green flag with a pair of red wings. Gargec peeked from behind his brother’s long neck and saw multiple dragons in the city… including a behemoth of a dragon that unironically dwarfed Gargec’s true form, this one being red like his younger brother, but with a brown underbelly.

“Father,” Gargec commented, once he saw the dragon looking up at Stratreo.

“Try not to cry when he sees you in person,” Stratreo scoffed. He then dived to the ground below, landing on the city outskirts.

Gargec slid off of his brother’s dragon form and walked to the city gates… only to be cut off by a yellow wing on his left, and a brown on his right. “Really?” he asked, looking at the two draconic gatekeepers. The yellow and brown dragon bent her head down to him and sniffed him.

“...Gargec?” she asked, her eyes wide in surprise. Before the dwarf-disguised dragon could answer her, she turned to stone, and the stones shrank before harmlessly crumbling away, revealing an excited-looking brunette elf with tanned skin, brown eyes, and wearing a green tunic over a pair of black pants. She quickly hugged Gargec, picking him up with a surprising amount of strength for a frail-looking elf body. She squealed, “By Scaleion’s breath, it’s you! Fifteen years since you… I never got to thank you for that…!”

“No need,” Gargec answered. “So, how are you doing, Eden?”

“Edenis,” the gatekeeper insisted, putting him down. “And I’m doing better. I actually married Duli! Our next clutch of eggs is due to hatch under the New Lampras Moon!”

“That’s a bit dangerous, isn’t it?” Gargec asked, looking at Edenis. “A winter hatching is very complicated since keeping the eggs warm during the initial Odioseran frost takes a lot of heat. Isn’t Duli a water dragon?”

“Yeah, they are,” Edenis replied. “But we have plans to build an incubation nest. Gargec, you’re good with building stuff. You think you can help us.”

“Well, I’ll come to have a look at your plans,” the dwarf-disguised dragon answered, scratching his beard. “So, what’s with the heightened security? Is it… what I fear?”

“Afraid so, Gargec,” the brown and gray dragon to the right answered. “We’ve gotten word that the Craigheight Tribe had marched on Bhearwing Territory.”

“Bhearwing?” Gargec gasped. “That’s just northeast of Iroenfang, where I was last week.”

“You’ve been THAT close to us for fifteen years?” Edenis questioned.

“I know, right?” Stratreo replied. “He was in Witherbrand, and the Iroenfang Tribe never bothered to tell us.”

“I asked Chief Tryvat not to,” Gargec answered. “He agreed on the term that I don’t use my status as a dragon to attempt to lord over the smallfolk. Can we go back to Bhearwing being invaded by the largest tribe of warriors on the continent, and WHY that’s happening?”

“I was going to address that myself, at the assembly,” the red and brown dragon from before commented, having come to the gate. He looked at the dwarf-disguised dragon, and asked, “Is that you, Gargec?”

“Father,” Gargec answered. He then held up both of his arms to the side with his hands balled into fists, and then crossed his arms horizontally at the top of his chest a below his stomach, before kneeling and declaring, “I return to answer the Wall’s call, for I was forged inside of it, and will defend those who are within its embrace. If I am to die, may my spirit continue its defense of the people here. But if I am unworthy… remove my head and burn my spirit, for the best my bones can do is provide decor.”

The red and brown dragon looked at the dwarf-disguised one. He then was engulfed in fire, and emerged from it a tall, well-built human male, with reddish hair and a full beard, wearing brown and red clothes, a long, thick cape, and heavy-looking boots. His eyes were bright green, and he had a slight overbite. “My oldest son.” He walked over and hugged Gargec. “You look well… for a dwarf. How the hell did you manage to hide under all of our noses for so long?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Gargec answered. “I really had to sell the name ‘Gunnar Fireforge’ for years. But still… I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

“Even if that wasn’t the case,” Raithwall Tultoc answered, “circumstances… have changed.” Gargec frowned, remembering the Craigheights, and turned to the other gatekeeper.

“Mannerth, it’s a shame we don’t have time to catch up right now,” Gargec said.

“I’ll see you at the assembly,” Mannerth nodded while his partner suddenly returned to her dragon form.

“I’ll let Duli know you’re back!” Edenis bade farewell. Gargec followed Tultoc into the town, and Stratreo followed them.

“So, why the hill dwarf form, son?” Tultoc asked.

“When the smallfolk hear that dragons are shapeshifters, they’ll think to look around the most common race in Skyeria to be a dragon in disguise,” Gargec answered. “What is that?”

“Pretty sure it’s humans,” Tultoc replied. He then noticed Gargec looking at him. “I see what you mean.”

“Meanwhile, most mountain dwarves dislike dragons since they think we’re greedy and invade their underground homes,” Gargec replied. “Although that’s pot calling the kettle.”

“So, do we talk about the fact that you just caused an avalanche?” Stratreo asked.

“You were the one who used his breath attack to speed up fighting manticores!” Gargec reminded him. Turning back to his father, he said, “Hill dwarves aren’t as stubborn, and not too many stand out as major figures. But they can make great smiths.”

“Clever,” Tultoc admitted. “Well, as you can tell, not much has changed in fifteen years.”

“Yeah, the streets are all the same,” Gargec noticed, looking at the road. “But… the people sure have changed.”

“I forget how quickly humans age,” Tultoc noticed. “Those who were children one day were adults the next. Time affects us much slower, so we don’t fear how long things take… but for humans, our lifetimes are hundreds, if not thousands of theirs.”

“But what people do with the time they get, no matter how short, can affect the world,” Gargec replied.

“Enough philosophy, you two,” Stratreo interrupted. “If we’re going to deal with the Craigheights on the march, we need action, not words.”

“You’re not wrong,” Gargec said. “Father, when and where is the assembly?”

“Tomorrow evening at sunset, in the town square,” Tultoc answered. “My scout should be returning, soon.” He then pointed to a nearby large hut that he had been leading Gargec and Stratreo to and handed Gargec the key. “I took the liberty of having quarters prepared for you. Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you, Father,” Gargec smirked. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gargec and Tultoc separated, Stratreo following their father. As Gargec grabbed the key and inserted it into the lock to open the door--

“Well, I thought I smelt a coward,” a male voice interrupted Gargec’s words. He turned to see a group of four people walking over to him. The one who spoke was a tall, thin male with cat ears, eyes, and a tail. Standing next to him was a female elf with pale skin, black hair in a short, wild cut. The third was another female, this one a human with blonde hair in an over-the-shoulder ponytail, tanned skin, and sharp brown eyes. Finally, there was a small male creature with pointed ears with frills, brown curly hair, and a short but thick matching beard. All of them were wearing brown and red clothing. “Gargec… the chief’s failure of a son.”

“Not right now, Rizzan,” Gargec answered, turning back to the door, and unlocking it. He then opened it--

“Oh hell no!” the blonde said, grabbing Gargec’s arm. “You are NOT getting out of this one, coward! You think just because your father is the chief and called for all Raithwall dragons to return that all is forgiven? Stratreo may permit your return, but the rest of us--”

“I have had a very LONG week,” Gargec replied, placing his free left hand on hers to shut her up. “Last Roostday, I’ve been forced to close my very successful smithy down, exposed my nature as a dragon just outside of Witherbrand, nearly caught in a snow-storm coming here, attacked by various monsters in a canyon, almost was killed in an avalanche because Stratreo got bored, crash-landed, nearly attacked by old friends on the thought I could possibly be an enemy tribe scout and found out the Craigheight Tribe is on the warpath for some reason! I’m not exactly THRILLED to be back here, either, after everything that happened fifteen years ago, and I’m not about to be threatened or bullied by you guys atop of everything else before Starsday.” He then squeezed her hand, making her scream in pain as he put his draconic strength behind it. He pulled her hand off of his arm and pushed her back. “I don’t want to fight you… but if you ever put so much as a claw on me again, Zonhu, I WILL take that as a challenge. And let me warn you, just because I like being a small dwarf smith doesn’t mean I forgot what it means to be a warrior dragon. I just no longer need to be a dragon for me to give you one final lesson.”

Zonhu held her hand and growled at him. “I see that you still have some fire left in you, Gargec,” Rizzan chuckled. “Where was this back during the end of your trial fifteen years ago? You might have had Stratreo’s position! Or at least mine as Guard Captain.” Gargec walked into his hut and closed the door. “Not even going to rise to it, huh? I understand not wanting to fight, but you’re taking this ‘pacifism’ thing you’re doing too far. Other dragons will think you’re weak.”

“Isn’t he?” the short one asked.

“Shut up, Ailge,” the elf told him. She turned towards the door, and said, “Look, Gargec… you left before the council decided what happened to you after the trial. For all anyone knows, they could have let you stay and take the trial again. No need to isolate yourself… because all you’re doing is making enemies when you could make a friend.”

“Do you even want me here, Isot?” Gargec asked. The elf-disguised dragon shrugged.

“The tribe is better whole than it is separate,” she answered. “...Besides, I owe you for what you did, so I told these guys to try to cut you some slack.” Looking at her group, she added, “Apparently, they don’t listen.”

“Well, he doesn’t do himself favors by not acting like a dragon,” Rizzan remarked. Turning to the door, he asked, “Where the hell is your sense of pride, Gargec? You seem to never have had any in what you are.” He and the other two walked away, but Isot stayed.

“You don’t have to stay out there,” Gargec said after a few minutes of unpacking.

“I do,” Isot replied. “Gargec, I know you don’t care for draconic politics, but… I’ve heard a rumor that the Craigheight tribe only got this powerful because Cyrgin is leading them.” Gargec’s eyes widened at that name.

Cyrgin… that was a feared and hated name amongst the dragons of Odiosera. It was known even amongst the smallfolk. A dragon hatched during a thunderstorm that happened under the Full Blood Moon of Haggeria approximately 239 years prior, Cyrgin was a wild, ambitious wyrmling. There was a strong amount of darkness in him… since unlike Gargec, who also hatched 239 years prior under the New Moon of Scalieon, Gargec didn’t get stronger under a blood moon. His parents, whose names were erased from history, could tell something was wrong with the boy and tried to get him to help… all that was left of their bodies were charred bones. He took over his tribe at the age of 25, young for a dragon, and fought skirmish after skirmish for 84 years before the Battle of Forgefang… where he supposedly died during that Blood Moon.

“Cyrgin survived the battle?” Gargec asked. “I wasn’t able to find out what happened to him….”

“Think about it,” Isot answered. “That storm during your trial… that had to be him. You made the right call.”

“But how did he survive?” Gargec asked. “The damage to his wings would have prevented him from flying, and even if he survived the fall…!”

“Blood Moons are unnatural things, aren’t they?” Isot reasoned. “He may have still had power, and had used it to have been left frozen alive to survive everything that happened to him… maybe the next Blood Moon revived him forty years back. Smallfolk medicine and healing magic have greatly improved since Forgefang 140 years ago, so he could have, from there, been treated for all of his wounds, but he would have still been on his back for decades. If he’s back to full strength and has since taken over the Craigheight Tribe… can we beat him?”

“You were part of his tribe back then,” Gargec answered. “We may now have more combat experience since then, but we’re not as naturally strong as Cyrgin was. And my father’s best fighting days are behind him, and Stratreo, one of our tribe’s best warriors, lacks Cyrgin’s leadership and combat expertise.”

“He’s going to want revenge,” Isot concluded. “On the tribe that stopped his conquest, on the dragons who surrendered rather than continued fighting… on your father for defeating him. That means he’s going to come after both of us.”

“Revenge by proxy? Do you really think Cyrgin is that level of petty?”

“Try asking his parents, who tried to talk reason into their son,” Isot replied. A few tears slid down her face as she added, “Try talking to my original tribe’s chief, who tried to surrender without a fight. Try talking to my unborn little brother, who was a helpless egg in our family’s nest, when my parents couldn’t provide an able-bodied soldier to his violent conquests, even though I was willing to join him if it spared my brother. Try asking the young dragonesses in my tribe who weren’t fighters like me, when he ordered his warriors to make more--!”

“I’m sorry for making you bring up that,” Gargec interrupted with a grimace. The actions of Crygin were unbecoming of a guardian dragon. Gargec heard that Cyrgin had claimed that his “justification” was the overpopulation of dragons, but this last atrocity… that was hypocritical.

“...I was spared that last part,” Isot assured. “None of his men would have realized I was a female back then without a sniff of me since I dressed more masculine and elves were a bit hard to tell the difference between at first glance. And even if they did… he found me more useful to him as a warrior than a nester, and he ripped off the claws of the last drake who tried to lay a finger on me without his permission. Perhaps, though, he was saving me for himself once his conquest of Odiosera and Lakerest was complete.”

“Dark thoughts,” Gargec decreed. “I dread to think Cyrgin survived… and had a hand in my trial.”

She then sighed, “What do you think we ought to do, Gargec?” The door opened, and the dwarf looked at Isot.

“What are you asking me for?” he questioned. “I’m not taking my role as the heir back. I’m only here at Father’s request to help guide Stratreo. Whether my brother listens to my advice or not is up to debate, but my brother’s draconic pride my blind him.”

“Then give me your opinion, Stratreo be damned,” Isot demanded. “What would you have us do if you were the next chief? Can we survive another battle with Stratreo or not? Stop beating around the bush and give me a clear answer!”

“...In theory, no,” Gargec replied. Isot frowned at the admission of defeat. He defended himself, “Defeating him all that time ago cost us a chief, and the casualties beyond that were high on our side. We needed the help of the Iroenfang Tribe to match his tribe’s strength… and I don’t think we’re going to have that, since Cyrgin will probably learn from his mistakes. We won’t win without significant sacrifice… and that’s IF we win. If Cyrgin really is alive and leading the Craigheights, thousands of people--not just the handful of dragons I sense here, but the smallfolk under our protection--will die. And that’s the best-case scenario. The worst is that he wipes us out to the last drake, dragoness, and wyrmling.” Looking at the walls to the city, he said, “We can shelter in here from the non-draconic forces, but that war of attrition will result in hundreds starving, and it does nothing against dragons when we can fly. They’ll be trapped. We can’t surrender or negotiate with him… he’ll want to slaughter all of us.” He then admitted, “I only have one real solution but… I think it’s going to get ignored at best, get me killed at worst.”

“...Sounds risky,” Isot replied. “Just like how you risked everything at that trial all that time ago. What is it?” Gargec whispered into her ear, and she nodded at him. “Oh, that is risky.”

“Do you think we can pull it off?” Garage asked. “Look, if everything goes to hell, and I’m either exiled or executed, you can just deny everything. I only told you because I thought you’d listen to me, but you don’t have to agree with me. Say the word, and I’ll stop. We can get out, just the two of us and take the small handful of people and dragons--”

“I’m with you, Gargec,” Isot replied. “I’m going to make this plan work.” She turned away from him to leave, but before she took a step forward, she turned and brushed a hair out of her face. “For what it’s worth, Gargec… I missed you, artisan of fire and metal. You keep a rational head. Talkative, but that’s what I like about you.”

“I missed you too, huntress of the winds and waves,” he replied. “You’re a breath of fresh air from dragons who focus on strength.” Isot smiled, a small dusting of pink on her cheeks, and she turned before being engulfed in a small surge of wind before becoming a teal-scaled, slender dragoness with a brown underbelly. She unfurled her long wings and flew off. Gargec frowned as she left. “In another life, maybe….” He then turned to his hut and closed the door.