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His New Hoard Chapter 6: Assembled Souls By Draconicon

Draconicon had said that his special skill was adaptation. Now that was being put to the test. White eyes widened as the German Shepherd turned into a Doberman before his eyes, going from female to male, from rogue to ranger, from soft voice to hard voice and harder eyes.

For all that, the threat didn't land the way that the canine probably expected it to. He'd been threatened with fireballs, with obliteration, with possession, with incineration, and with electrocution. Somehow, the threat of a blade didn't make much of an impact in comparison, even though he knew that it could still work on him.

Before he could respond, the flicker occurred again, and the Doberman faded away, replaced by, of all things, a plate-armored kangaroo with a two-handed sword over her shoulder and a heavy walloping stick at her waist. He half-expected to see a boomerang somewhere, too, but that didn't make an appearance.

"Pardon the angry one, hon. He's not real happy about this decision right now, but he's going along with the consensus." The roo patted the back of her head. "Yes, yes, you are. Good."

"You know, I wish I could say that this is the strangest thing I have ever seen, but..."

"Heh, well, if we aren't weird, then that makes it easier, dun'it?"

Her accent was soft and warm, strangely suited for her species. Before he could get used to it, though, she shifted again, the German Shepherd on display once more. The smile dropped, fierce eyes returning.

"You weren't supposed to meet them yet, but since the cat's out of the bag..."

"Speaking of bags. I should tell you that there's a friend in one under the bed," Draconicon said. "Do you mind if I put him on the bed with me?"

"You mean the mole from the crater? He's alive?"

The dragon nodded.

"...Fine."

He felt her eyes on him as he reached under the bed, and the dragon made sure to take it slow, to pull at the bag Jaceb was resting in gently and gradually so that she never thought that he was trying to pull a fast one. He held it out to her, opening the bag slightly for inspection. The German Shepherd drew a dagger from her belt and used it to push it up a bit further.

"...He's a mess, isn't he?" she asked.

"He's still in the process of putting himself back together. We had a...rather nasty sort of trip."

"So we noticed."

We. That was an important distinction, and one worth knowing. It wasn't a single person taking on various shapes, then.

The dragon closed the bag, putting it by him on the bed. He folded his legs under him, resting his hands on his knees.

"You mentioned a problem?"

"No questions?" she asked.

"Only about the problem."

She looked surprised, but he didn't push it. Instead, he cocked his head to the side, putting on his most professional manner, the same one that he used for students that had come to him back home when they had a problem.

"What do you need?"

"I - we're cursed. By an item, not a person."

"Thanks for the distinction. What kind of item?"

"Some fuckwit using a holy trinket that would have been better left alone," she said, shaking her head. "We were gonna take it off him, part of a whole contract with some scholar further off, but..."

"Stronger than he looked?"

"Luckier than he should have been."

Flicker. The Doberman was back.

"We could have handled him. Before. Now, he's waiting for us. He put up a barrier. You're going to break it."

"And when I do?" Draconicon asked. "You're going to rush in and kill him, from the sound of it."

"No. Heh. No." The Doberman smiled slowly. "That's too quick for - shut up. Shut up. I'm not..."

The Doberman's lips twisted in a snarl, and there was a half-flicker back to the German Shepherd before it flickered back to the sharp-eared Doberman again.

"...Ow. As I was saying. That is too quick for him. He needs to learn. A lesson."

Flicker. Flicker. Flicker.

Three people - no, wait, four, he thought, seeing a fourth one, a possum, for a split second before the flicker happened again. Four people inside of one body, all trying to talk at once. Must be hell trying to get a moment's peace.

He waited, letting them figure out who was talking next. After a half-minute, they seemed to settle on the German Shepherd once more. She looked slightly more haggard after that, her ears drooping. Her breathing sounded forcibly measured, like she was trying to keep it from sounding tired.

"As you can see, this has caused us some...difficulties," she said. "When we get rid of the fuckwit, we're hoping that'll break this spell. If not..."

"If not, you'll still need my help."

"Yes."

"And when it comes to help, what kind are you looking for? Full splitting? Measured stability? Temporary splitting before coming together again? Something else?"

"...You're way too calm about this. Why aren't you, you know, freaking out? What do you know?"

"Nothing, in all honesty," he said, shaking his head. "All of this is new to me."

"You're acting like you expected this, though. You can't - nobody expects this. This isn't normal. We aren't normal."

"Who am I to say what's normal?"

He grunted, pushing his legs back out so that he could be more comfortable. Scooting to the edge of the bed, he leaned forward a little, looking the leather-armored canine in the eye. She didn't flinch, didn't pull back. She was the picture of suspicious but confident.

"Look. I know you're not like the people where I'm from. And you, all four of you - if not more, I don't know if there's anyone hiding that hasn't popped out - all of you know that I am not from around here. Thing is, that doesn't matter.

"I'm still learning about everything. I don't know how this world works. I don't know how people work. I'm still figuring out how magic works. But even if I did know, it wouldn't matter. When I look at the world, any world, I make it a point to let it have the first word. To let it be the one to tell me what it is first. Now, if it lies to me, then I can have a few words back, but if it's telling me the truth, then no matter how strange it is, no matter how alien, then me trying to tell it that it should be something different is basically calling the world, the person, the thing that's talking to me a liar, and that's an insult I won't throw around lightly.

"More importantly, you can't do anything to change things until you know where you're starting from. Saying something isn't normal, that something isn't true when it is, is one step away from denial, and you can't do anything in denial."

As usual when he started explaining things, the words started rushing out. By the time that he reached the end, he was half-surprised that it made any sense whatsoever, but he'd long since learned to let himself talk when the words were there. Usually, they came out making sense to someone else, often more sense than they did to him.

The German Shepherd looked at him with her head cocked to the side, and he half-expected her to snort in dismissal. Instead, she continued to stare, slowly shaking her head.

"You are..."

"Strange? Weird? Not like others?"

"I want to say you're lying. But...I can't prove it."

"Well, that's one thing I don't do, and that, I promise, you can hold me to."

Shaking his head, the dragon leaned over the bag with the reforming necromancer. Jaceb looked back out at him, glasses nosed back over his muzzle. There was no response, though that might have been due to shyness as much as whether he had anything to say at all. He chuckled.

"Besides, pretty sure that he is okay with you. He hasn't blown himself up yet."

The Shepherd chuckled, then groaned, her hand to her head as the kangaroo came out again. Metal armor clicked together as she hopped forward, smiling as she leaned over the bag.

"Awww, you're a shy one, but you're a good'n, yeah? Yeah, you are."

There was a way that she spoke that made him wonder just how many scared little creatures she'd taken care of in her life, but before he could ask, the shift happened again, and the Doberman was back. As were his swords, for that matter, one held out and against the dragon's neck.

"I have agreed to go along with this for the greater good. For all of us. But just because we can't prove a lie right now does not mean there isn't one. I am watching you."

"Fair enough. I'll make sure that everything's free to see."

"Even if you don't...if you turn on them..."

"Pain?"

"Like you will never be able to imagine."

"...I'll restrain my flippant response."

"Good."

The Doberman sheathed his sword, turning to the door. By the time he'd reached it, the four-in-one figure had gone through the rounds again, flickering in an unstable mess before finally settling on the German Shepherd once more. She looked annoyed, and more than slightly so, before she managed to get her features under control.

She stopped at the door, looking back at him. She shook her head.

"Don't disappoint me. We'll be back in the morning, and you better be ready."

"Heh, I will be. I actually look forward to this."

"..."

He kept the smile on his face until she left, waiting until the sound of footsteps faded before he flopped back on his bed with a groan.

"Uuuuugh, fighting a wizard already. This was not how I wanted to start this world off."

"W-were y-y-you lying? I thought y-you s-said y-y-you didn't do that?"

"I don't." He groaned. "I am looking forward to this, but it's kind of like surgery. You want to get it done, but only because not doing it makes things worse."

He took a deep breath, looking at the wall. He could still feel the power of the temple in the distance, the network that he had tapped into in order to cast any magic at all. That particular idea had drained him more than he liked, and he doubted that he would be able to take down a caster that was using it properly. No matter the freedom that he had to work with that a priest-mage would not have, it would do him no good if he sucked himself dry of energy before he could actually take the other guy down.

There was still the base magic inside of him, admittedly, but he did not want to touch that. Not unless there was no other choice. If he used it all up, then he'd have no reservoirs left for the next jump.

If there was a jump.

The more that he thought about their last one, the luckier he realized they'd been. They'd launched themselves out of Hell, a plane that nobody was ever, ever supposed to leave, and more than that, they'd pushed through whatever prison wards his enemies had laid over the plane. The whole time, they'd been guessing where to aim, and just hoping that they had the spell-power to actually reach whatever was closest.

That sort of scattershot could easily send him falling right back down if he wasn't careful. He needed to know where he was going next time, and he doubted that there were many ways of researching the other planes here.

Unless I did talk to the gods...

It wasn't a pleasant thought, and he groaned at the very thought of opening his minds to those...things. Whether they were gods or not - and he had his doubts just what they were - they were stronger than him and they'd demand some sort of price for answers. Nothing existed that was so strong that didn't require something for its services.

Considering that they could ask him to get rid of Jaceb (literally or figuratively), or strip himself of magic, or bind himself to their service, it was too big a risk to take without exhausting the other options on this particular universe first.

The only real hope that he had was the fact that there were, apparently, magical items in this world. The fact that one had combined four people into one - albeit with the help of a caster channeling magic through it, more than likely - meant that there was a way for power to be infused into more physical items. If that was the case, then there was a way to get that power back out. If there was a way to get that power back out, then there was a way to repurpose that power, and if there was a way to repurpose that power...

Then this is only a temporary setback.

Of course, there was the matter of keeping himself and the others alive tomorrow. There was no point in having his breakthrough if this other mage managed to kill him or the others, and he doubted that Jaceb had the power to bring them all back. Hell, he wasn't sure that the Doberman and the others would want to be, nor did he...

Draconicon sighed, thumping his head against the bed and immediately regretting it as his horns lodged in the wood beneath it. He grumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead.

"Jaceb?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you have arms and legs yet?"

"Um, I have an arm, and most of b-both legs..."

"I need a hand."

The necromancer fumbled about in his sack, and eventually, he seemed to find a way to throw himself forward. An unattached arm flew out first, slapping the dragon across the face. Draconicon picked it up, shaking his head and setting the mostly-regenerated limb off to the side.

The one-armed mole followed, grunting as he pulled himself free. He had most of his features back, too, though the fur still needed to grow back along the side of his neck and down the front half of his torso. The tissue underneath was fine, though.

Jaceb pushed his glasses back up, then blinked. From where the dragon laid, it had a peculiarly exaggerated, slowed-down effect.

"How...j-just...how?"

"The problem with horns. Pull my head up?"

"..."

He could tell that Jaceb was doing his very best not to laugh, and he appreciated that. What he didn't appreciate was the grip on his head and the sudden yanks from side to side, feeling like it was going to rip one of the horns right out of his head.

Eventually, though, he was free, and he more carefully laid himself down on his side.

"Can you keep watch?" he asked.

"Y-yes. No p-p-p-problem."

"Wake me if anything bigger than a thief comes."

He closed his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't dream of his old life, and he didn't. He dreamt of what it could have been.

Thankfully, they were not interrupted through the night. Draconicon slept until sunrise, at which point the light did what Jaceb had not, burning in his eyes as he rolled over and grumbled.

"Mmmph...One thing that I did not miss..."

On instinct he started to gesture at the window, a spell coming to his fingers. When the gap in the wall did not instantly seal with darkness, the dragon paused, looking down at his fingers.

"...Right."

He shook his head, taking a deep breath before pushing it back out. There was no need to be concerned, he told himself. He didn't need to worry yet. He wasn't out in the open where a lack of magic would get him killed.

Not yet, anyway.

As he turned to get out of bed, Jaceb jumped up from the foot of the bed. The mole trembled, several bone bulges showing through his flesh as Draconicon could gesture for him to calm down, holding out his hands and whispering.

"It's okay, it's okay. Nothing bad. Just getting up. I'm just getting up," he said.

The mole's bones slowly settled back down beneath the skin, the initial bulge of a jawbone sliding out of the necromancer's face sliding back where it belonged. Bit by bit, Jaceb collected himself, and Draconicon shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, y-you s-shouldn't b-be s-s-sorry. Not...Not y-your fault."

He sighed. Not the answer that he wanted, but if Jaceb wasn't going to blame him, he wasn't going to fight it this morning. He'd apologize later if the necromancer kept up with the self-blame, though. Last thing that he needed was to see his only ally putting himself down, or worse, making himself useless.

He got out of bed and pulled his robe on. It was still dusty and a bit muddy around the hem from the long walk the day before, but at least it was wearable. After that sleep, his ribs were feeling better, too. Not cracked, at least, though breathing was still a bit difficult. He forced himself to take several deep breaths, learning how far his lungs could expand before hitting the sore point.

Better sore than stabbing, though. He could actually walk today, and it felt like he wouldn't need the crutches or any other supports.

The idea of using them to make others underestimate him tickled at his fancy for a bit, but he discarded it. Too many people had seen him walking normally, and he had little doubt that the mouse from the last night had built him up as something terrifying, some immortal that could not be killed. When it came to stereotypes to work with, that wasn't a bad one. It'd keep opponents to leave him alone right up to the point where they'd actually be a challenge to handle.

Or until the point you find someone wanting to make a name for themselves, he thought.

Shaking his head, he dusted off his robe as best he could, and was just considering sitting down for a meditation when the bedroom door opened again.

This time, it was the kangaroo in plate armor. She smiled as she walked in, but nodded at him before turning to Jaceb.

"Heh, glad to see you all in one piece again, sweety," she said, hopping over, only for Jaceb to drag himself back to the middle of the bed. "Oy, oy, I ain't gonna bite. You okay?"

"Fine...J-just fine..."

"Awwww, someone hurt you bad, huh? Yeah...I can see it." She shook her head. "Don't worry. You'll be alright 'round here, long as you keep your eyes peeled."

Another shudder ran down the mole's spine, making the little bumps there pop against the robe slightly. Draconicon winced.

"I would imagine someone might have literally peeled his eyes at some point."

Jaceb nodded in confirmation. The kangaroo shook her head.

"When this is all over, if they're 'round these parts, remind me to kick 'em."

"Just kick them?"

"Hey, these stompers ain't for nothing, you know?"

She lifted one of her admittedly huge paws from the ground, wiggling her toes. It would have been quite the sight...if someone else hadn't chosen that exact moment to push forward. The familiar flicker hit, and suddenly, it was the German Shepherd standing on one paw, and she wasn't quite ready for it.

"Gah!"

The shepherd tumbled backwards, catching herself on the edge of the bed. She slowly brought her paw back down, glaring into the distance.

I would not want to be that kangaroo right now, he thought, shaking his head. I doubt I was supposed to see that.

"That never happened," the Shepherd said.

"I'd ask what never happened, but then we'd keep talking about it." He tried to smile, only for it to falter as he thought about what lay ahead. "It's time to go?"

"Did you eat?"

"Not yet."

"Grab something from the bar downstairs. We'll eat as we go."

"Must be saving a fortune on food there," he muttered.

"HA!"

She covered her mouth after barking out the laugh. For a second, she almost looked embarrassed, more embarrassed than when she had almost fallen over. The glare returned, this time most definitely directed at him and Jaceb, a wordless warning that he filed away in the back of his head.

"We'll be down in a second," the dragon said.

"We'll meet you outside."

She left, and the dragon and mole turned to look at each other. They didn't say anything, they just shared a look.

I thought we just left the realm of tortured souls? said Jaceb's face.

Apparently not, said Draconicon's.

They got up, the mole pulling his bag together and delicately pulling out the skull inside. Despite the damage that it had taken in Hell, it had started glowing again. The dragon cocked his head to the side, looking it over before glancing up at the light reflecting from Jaceb's glasses.

"Do I ever get to know what that is?"

"Maybe...maybe one day..."

Jaceb stroked his hand along the top of the skull, shaking his head. The mole's shadow lifted up, the pair of them touching the skull, petting it until the dragon squeezed his shoulder.

"Then one day. Let's go find the multitude."

They found her outside the inn after they picked up their food. The villagers eyed them from all sides as they left, some of them staring at Jaceb in particular. Not too surprising, considering that he'd been in the bag when they'd entered the village. Draconicon did his best to ignore them, keeping pace with the German Shepherd as he picked apart a piece of half-burned bread.

"So, do you mind me asking a few questions?"

She didn't answer. He shrugged, falling back, walking with Jaceb. The mole stumbled now and again, probably still getting used to walking again after not having his legs under him for so long.

"You okay?" the dragon asked.

"Mmmph...Okay enough..."

"Hurting?"

"Little."

"Gonna be okay?"

The mole nodded. He looked back up at the German Shepherd, noticing the occasional flicker, the little bit of metal that occasionally popped along her back, or the bit of dark fur that would replace her gray fluff.

It had to be the other people in her, each one pushing to come forward, intentionally or unintentionally. He wondered what it would be like to have a head that was so full, to have so much...noise up there.

Then again, there were times when that sort of thing would be nice. He imagined that she would have had a far simpler trip down in Hell, with the different people that he'd seen. With so many different voices, they would have been able to push one another forward...

Though, that said, perhaps not through Fire. They would have all been affected by something there, consumed...

Or in Ice, where they would have been deadened, save for perhaps the urge to follow orders...

Maybe it wouldn't have been so great for them, after all.

As he had promised, the dragon paid the gate guards more gold as he stepped through, telling them that he would try and be back later. The German Shepherd scoffed at that, tapping her paw impatiently to keep them moving. He followed, shaking his head as they left the village behind and returned to the jungle forest.

In the shadows of the trees, he couldn't help but feel vulnerable. The dragon could still feel the power of the temple in the distance, but he still remembered the voice from the last time that he had tapped into it. Resolving not to do that again unless he had to, he called forward.

"How far are we going?"

"Not far. Four miles or so."

"So, two hours?"

"One and a half, if you can keep up."

"We'll do our best."

The trees cast shade with decreasing comfort as the day wore on. The higher the sun got in the sky, the less the shade mattered as the trees trapped the heat and held it around them. Jaceb was slumping forward, and the dragon wasn't much better. He groaned, grumbling under his breath as the heat sunk into his scales, burning at him from all sides.

And I thought Fire was hot...

They'd been walking for some time over an hour when the Shepherd - she'd changed at least three times during the walk - finally held up her hand in a fist, stopping them in their tracks. He lowered his head, looking forward.

Hidden among the trees on a rising hill ahead was a temple. It wasn't much of one, little more than piles of rock among statues compared to the great collapsed ziggurat that he'd seen when they'd first arrived, but there were more signs of life here. Snakes slithered in and out of holes in the structure, and he could make out a number of large cats prowling around the outside.

"Who's the mage that we're going after?" he asked. "What species?"

"A fuckwit," she muttered. "A jaguar. Do you need a name?"

"If it's a true one, it can help. Otherwise, no."

She nodded. The river between them and the temple bubbled softly, and he could just make out the energy that had been cast over the moving water. A barrier spell, alright, one that would keep anyone that didn't have the right aura or a greater strength from crossing it. If you pushed your luck, you'd probably end up drowned against that sort of thing.

"So, can you get us in?" she asked, flickering to the Doberman again. "I can smell him."

"I'll try."

"We'll keep watch."

"Jaceb, stay here," he muttered. "If anything goes crazy, get out of here. Fast. And take..." He looked back at the Doberman. "...Him or her?" he asked, realizing it was rather hard to tell in the leathers.

"..."

"Okay. Take the Doberman somewhere safe. If they let you."

"W-what are y-y-you g-going to do?"

"You know, I'm hoping to figure that out by the time that I find the barrier."

Using his own magic was still something he wanted to avoid doing. If he could find a way to repurpose anything, that would be lovely, but he doubted that he'd be able to break down a divine spell that was already in motion. Pulling power from a god - or any greater source, for that matter - meant that breaking it down would require more power than he could currently bring to bear. That assumed that he could even figure out the rules that the spell operated under to break it down.

Think of something, he told himself as he stepped into the mud of the riverbank. Every spell has to work by some reason. Willpower alone doesn't create an effect. So what's the rule here?

A mage channeled power from a god. A god had to choose to give mages power. This mage, at least, had to channel that power through artifacts that were already magically powerful, which implied that a spell had to follow something, be channeled through something in order to actually work.

He grinned.

Got it. And that won't take much power at all...

Still more than he wanted to pull from himself, though. He reached out to the temple in the distance, pinging his magic off of it for a connection. They were a bit closer, so it was a bit easier.

As soon as he felt the power coming back, he grabbed at it. The pressure of the great mind on the other side started to come down on his skull, pushing at him to identify himself, to give obeisance.

Not today, not today...

But as he forced his stolen power through the ground, following the holes of little snakes and littler worms, as he channeled it under the river and into the holes that had been worn away by the leeches and the fish, he could feel it. The voice of power that echoed through the connection, battering at whatever mental barriers he put up, so loud that he could hear it through the mental walls.

Thief! Stealer of power! The Winged Serpent is not a wellspring for mortals to draw from! Present yourself, so that we may -

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," he muttered to himself.

I feel you! I sense you! There will be a reckoning, thief of magic. I swear this, by my throne of the Sky. Present yourself now, and -

CRACK!

The dragon released the power that he held as soon as he heard the shattering of rock and stone, letting the bouncing signal of magic go back from whence it came. The pressure of the god voice in his head continued for a second or two after, splitting his vision in two, leaving him half-blind.

But the results spoke for themselves. The rock that he had forced up from the riverbed had cut through the channel of the water, lifting itself up like a dam. With the flow of water stopped, so was the spell that carried the barrier.

Draconicon smiled, gesturing at the muddy riverbed as he turned around. The Shepherd's eyes were wider than he expected. Perhaps he had surprised her.

"After you," he said.

"I guess you're a little impressive," she said, smirking as she pulled a pair of daggers from her belt. "Now, it's our turn."

"Mind if I watch?"

"As long as you don't get in the way."

He shook his head, and the Shepherd jumped from rock to rock in the riverbed, clawed toes pulling her along until she was on dry land on the other side. Smiling, he followed, the soft squish-squish of the mole's footsteps telling him that he wasn't alone.

As the leather-armored rogue disappeared into the temple, he just hoped that this mage wasn't too deadly. He was starting to like her.

Them. He needed to remember, them. Four people in one, at least, if not more.

"Let's see how that battle's going, shall we?"

The End