FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

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Chapter Forty Three

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Revaramek’s glare bore into the old man’s eyes, waiting for him to speak.

Jekk gave a deep sigh, and ran his hand down his face. “I’ve seen something like that before. The day we thought he died. He lost control, and…his anger, his power manifested itself into…chaos. I only saw it from a distance. But there was lightning, some kind of uncontrolled gate, the sky shattered like glass. The building he was in, it dissembled itself, then built back up again, different somehow. A storm of red and gold grew and swirled around it, vaporizing things. Blasting apart stone like crumbling sand. When it was all over, he was gone, the building was a ruin, and the broken sky poured black rain. The gate must have taken him, blasted him out of the world that had only just begun to change.”

Revaramek dragged a claw through the sand. “So this…gate, you called it. He made that?” An idea tickled at the dragon’s brain, an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. “How do you know it wasn’t the story, trying to cast him out?”

Jekk lifted his head, glaring at the dragon through narrowed eyes. “Now is not the time for your delusions-”

“I don’t have delusions.” Revaramek shot his neck out and snapped his teeth close enough to Jekk’s face to leave the old man stumbling back. “And I don’t care what you think about me! I’m not protecting this village for you, I’m protecting it because I gave my word. Because I’m this story’s hero. It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not, because I’ll fight for you just the same, but you’d damn well better treat me with a little respect!” Revaramek gave a low, rumbling growl, then let fang-filled smile creep across his muzzle. “Or I’ll drop you into an outhouse. A burning outhouse.”

Jekk paled a little bit. He cleared his throat, then smoothed out the sleeves of his black robe. “Very well. I suppose at this point my opinions are hardly of consequence. What did you mean, though?”

“Maybe it’s story.” Revaramek eased his head back, arching his neck. “He’s not supposed to be a part of it, right? Neither I am, but for some reason it’s chosen me as its hero. I think because Mirelle is part of the story, and she asked for my help. But Asterbury and all his powers, they’re…not part of this world.” He padded away from the sand to where the grass still remained green and vibrant. Revaramek settled onto his haunches with a long sigh, curling his tail. “So the more he uses his power, the more it seeps into the world, the more the world rejects him. It tries to cast him out. Aylaryl must know. That’s why she keeps trying to calm him when he gets angry. She’s afraid she’ll lose him, if he loses control.” He coiled his tail around his paws, flicking its tip in thought. “If his powers manifest too greatly, changes the story too much? Then the story will cast him out to protect itself.”

Jekk stroked his long, gray beard, staring into the distance. “You know, not everything you just said was nonsense.”

Revaramek smiled, lifting his frills. “Of course! Because it’s a comedy, you see. It’s supposed to be happy, and fun. And heroes always win in the comedies, so I’m sure we’ll be alright.”

“And there goes your track record.” Jekk made a downhill motion with his hand.

“Revaramek!” Beka called out as she ran through the Cathedral’s back door. Broken stained glass crunched beneath her boots. “Are you alright?”

Revaramek pushed himself back up onto his paws, then padded through the large gap Asterbury left in the tree line. “I think so. Bit of a headache. That urd’thin hits a lot harder than you’d expect. Didn’t break anything, though.” He cast another glance up at the sky. “And none of us got sucked through any holes in reality, so I’ll count that as another win for the heroes.”

“That works for me.” Beka brushed aside some debris with a boot. “Wait, another? When was the first?”

“Oh, earlier today.” Revaramek waved his paw, shrugging his wings. “Mirelle and I kicked Aylaryl’s ass over at Enora’s place.”

“Enora.” Jekk followed after the dragon, scowling. “So she’s still around. Vakaal said something about-”

“He’s not Vakaal.” Revaramek thumped his tail.

“So, you think he’s-”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” The dragon curled his neck to gaze back at Jekk. “Whoever Vakaal and his father were, they’re gone. There’s only Asterbury now. He said it himself.”

“So he did.” Jekk rubbed his forehead, grimacing. “Maybe he’s not…one of them. Maybe he’s both.”

“That makes my brain hurt.” Revaramek scratched the base of a horn. “Is that even possible?”

“I’ve no idea. If he’s…” Jekk wrung trembling hands together. “If he’s merged his own stories somehow, even by accident…”

Revaramek snarled as Jekk trailed off, flicking his tail spines through the grass. “Before you showed up, he was showing me images…” He held his paw up in the air, pads to the darkening sky. “Of his family, I think. But…not the one in the story. I…I couldn’t tell if it was Vakaal all grown up with his own family, or…if he would have had siblings later in life or…He says he sees it, sometimes.”

Jekk paced, stroking his beard. “It’s as though he’s seeing across realities. Feeling the pain of all of them…till he can’t even remember which one he is, anymore.”

Revaramek arched his neck, pulling his head back. He suddenly didn’t want to breathe the same air as the old man. “Jekk, what the hell did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Jekk spun on the dragon, jabbing a finger in the air. “I was a boy, at the time, I-”

“Enough, Jekk!” Revaramek rose back to his feet, hissing at the old man. He advanced on him, and Jekk backed away. “Someone did horrible things to that urd’thin and his family! Yes, he’s a monster now, and yes I will stop him, whatever it takes! But the only person here who knows what he went through is you! Boy or not, it doesn’t sound like you did a thing to try and stop whatever tortures they put him through! I don’t care if your father told you it was for some greater good, you were still party to it! And in lieu of having anyone else here to question, I’m asking the only person in this world who was involved! So stop with the self-pity and blame-shifting, and answer my gods-damn questions!” He thumped Jekk hard on the chest with a single digit. “What the hell did you do to him? And what is he?”

Beka clapped alongside the dragon. “Bravo, Rev.”

The dragon glanced down at her. “Thank you.” He swung his head back towards Jekk. “You know, I don’t think I like the idea of you leading this village anymore, Jekk. Asterbury said something about Enora coming to stage a coup, but I’m cutting her off at the pass.” Revaramek reached out to tear away the shield and fist emblem from Jekk’s robe. Instead, the whole black sleeve ripped away, exposing Jekk’s bare, liver-spotted arm. He stared at the sleeve, then handed it back to Jekk. “I’m relieving you of command!” He gave Beka a grin. “That’s what they say in the stories when they do this.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, dragon?” Jekk snatched the sleeve back.

“Kicking you out of office! Given what I’m learning about you, and in light of this council’s piss-poor decision making, I hereby declare Mirelle to be the new Head Councilwoman. Effective immediately.” Revaramek arched his neck, his spines flared. Then he blinked. “Or…whenever she next sets foot in town.”

“You can’t do that!”

Revaramek cocked his head, and snapped his teeth. “By all means, old man, try and stop me. I’m the only thing standing between your village and annihilation. What are your guards going to do? Miss him with all their arrows? Swing wide with their swords? I’m the only one who can stop him, and only Mirelle bothered to ask for my help! So as far as I’m concerned, she and I are your damn overlords now!” He arched his neck, then smirked down at the robed elder. “Luckily for you, I’m benevolent. Not sure so about Mirelle.”

“But…you can’t just…” Jekk gave a long, groaning sigh, his shoulders sagging. “Why bother.”

“Why bother indeed.” Revaramek curled his foreleg around Beka, smiling at her. “Subject Beka, are others still around? I finally have a use for the Tea Kettle. I need to send him on his way before former Councilman Jekk explains just what the hell we’re dealing with.” He tilted his head back to gaze at the dark sky, half afraid Asterbury was going come hurtling back down at any moment, cackling all the way. “A explanation for which I suspect I shall need a very large drink.”

“Everyone else is inside.” Beka pointed to one of the broken windows. “Tavaat was taking up position with his crossbow, and Elrind was lecturing his men on how to fight dragons and wizards and then he just sort of…well, when we all saw that…thing in the sky…even he was in awe.”

“I don’t blame him.” Revaramek cocked his head. “Speaking of which, how…are you?”

“Terrified?” Beka shrugged and gave a laugh bubbling with nervousness. “But not dead, so there’s that. I do think if we survive all this, you’re right to put Mirelle at the top of the council.” She glanced at Jekk. “Since the others didn’t want you involved, and clearly you’re the first one we should have gone to.”

“I never really…” Jekk rubbed his hands together. “No one could expect this.”

“And yet Mirelle was the only one who saw fit to actually ask for Revaramek’s help.” Beka patted the dragon’s paw. “Not that it matters now.”

Revaramek swiveled his ears forward, his spines half up, a smug expression for a dragon. “Don’t worry, Jekk, I’m sure Mirelle will consider letting you stay on, as a junior councilman.” He nudged Beka with his muzzle. “Fetch the Tea Kettle, will you?”

“Sure thing, Rev.”

Beka dashed inside the tavern. Soon, she returned with the man in the clanking armor. His helmet once obscured his face. Revaramek scrunched his muzzle. He wasn’t going to get very far with that. He waved a paw at it.

“Will you take off that thing?”

“Do I want to hear you sing?” The knight glanced around. “Afraid that horrid lightning storm left my ears ringing. And it doesn’t really seem the time for song, but-AAHH!”

He gave a startled cry as Revaramek snatched up his helmet and yanked it off his head. He shoved it against the knight’s armored chest, grunting. “We’re not playing that game again.”

The knight squinted, glancing back and forth. “I say, but it got dark out here. Looks like you’ve scared off the villain and his dragon, though! Mighty brave of you, standing up to all that lightning and whatnot. Seems I’ve misjudged you! If I may, I’d like to extend to you my hand and my heartiest apologies for-”

“Accepted!” Revaramek waved his paw. “You can keep your hands to yourself. I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“Certainly.” The knight lifted his helmet, only for Revaramek to put his paw on it.

“Keep that thing off your head, will you? Gods, it must stuff those mutton chops into your ears, and that mustache into your eyes! You’re blind and deaf whenever you put it on.”

“Suppose it is a bit ill-fitting.” The knight held his helmet at arm’s length, admiring it.

“Why do you even put it on, then?”

“It…it was my mother’s, actually.” Elrind turned the helmet over, his eyes shining. “She was the first woman knight ever in the kingdom to the west, where we’re from. But once I was born, she had me to raise. She couldn’t well spend her days in the service then, and so…well, once I was of age, I took up knighthood. Not many knights in this place so…”

“Maybe it’s her story you’re from. Some children’s book about the first woman knight.” Revaramek shook his head. “I can imagine it now, a comedic yet inspirational fairy tale, a brave woman and her bumbling…erm…someone else.” When Elrind gave him a blank look, the dragon waved a paw. “Oh, don’t mind me. Go on.”

Elrind furrowed his brow. “You’re an odd beast. Anyway, she’s gone now, and…this is really all I have of her…” He trailed off, staring at his helmet. “It doesn’t fit but…it carries on her memory.”

Revaramek found himself smiling. He understood that desire all too well. “That’s…actually rather touching. I wish I had something of my mother.” He glanced away, memories flicking through his mind. Her smile, her laugh, her warm copper and green scales. “She…she brought me here, too. From a poisoned place.” He gave Jekk a long glare, then turned his attention back to the knight. “I don’t have anything left of her but her stories. So many stories.”

“That’s something, eh?” Elrind put a hand on the dragon’s shoulder. “As long as we remember them, they still exist.”

“So they do, Tea Kettle.”

“Tea Kettle?”

“Uh…anyway, I called you out here for a reason.” He swung his head towards Jekk. “I’ve relieved the councilman of duty.”

“You’ve what now?” Elrind pivoted back and forth on his heel between the old man and the dragon.

Revaramek arched his neck, stretching out his wings. How best to explain it to the Tea Kettle? Aww, mount it. “I’m kicking Jekk out of office. As your town’s guardian, I’m officially the head of your military.”

Elrind tilted his head. “That doesn’t sound-”

“Oh, it’s all in the truce.” Revaramek circled his paw in the air. “The point is, I’m instituting article…ah…seventeen, which allows me to disband the council and appoint a new one.”

“Are you sure? I should have a look at this truce…”

“What a shame then that it’s burned down with your Council Hall.” Revamarek kept his voice as level and serious as he could. “Now, I’m appointing Lady Mirelle as Head Councilwoman. Reason being, as far as I can tell she’s the only intelligent one on the entire council. She’s also the only one of them to ask me for help. And seeing as how I’m the only one who can save you, that means the rest of them have failed at their jobs.”

Elrind stroked his scarlet mustache. “That…actually makes a bit of sense. You know, I always did find Lady Mirelle to be an excellent, intelligent businesswoman. I was quite glad to see her appointed, and-”

“Yes, yes, great.” Revaramek waved him off. “So she’s head Councilwoman now, and when all this is done, I’ll let her appoint a new council as she sees fit. So, now that’s official. Do be helpful, and go and spread the word to all the guards and everyone in charge of them. By the time Mirelle arrives, I want the whole town to know she’s the boss now. And then rally your men to prepare for any possible assault and await her command.”

“Right!” The knight saluted the dragon, and then snapped his helmet on.

Jekk grabbed his shoulder. “You can’t take this seriously!”

“You’re right!” He glanced back at Jekk. “I will say it cheerily! The town needs to keep its spirits up! Lads, onwards, we must inform the men!” He clanked back towards the back door, where Tavaat led him inside.

Jekk folded his arms, grumbling. “I’ll give it to you, Dragon. That was clever.”

“Of course it was.” Revaramek tossed his head. “Now I think Beka is about to pour me a drink. A really, really, big drink.” He turned his head to growl at Jekk. “A drink that had damn well better be accompanied by some answers.”

“Watch out for the glass and things, Revaramek.” Beka hurried inside the doors, calling out to her friend. “Tavaat! Help me sweep this broken glass and debris out of the way so Revaramek doesn’t slice his paw pads open to the bone!”

Revaramek scrunched his muzzle. The thought left his paws tingling in discomfort, and his webbed tail spines shuddering. “Yes, Beka, thank you for putting it so discretely.”

The dragon waited while Tavaat and Beka fetched a couple of large brooms, and swept the way clear. He tilted his head, watching as they made several large piles of shattered stained glass and broken wood, along with other debris from the dragon’s crash landing. Humans made the strangest things, he thought. Their brooms looked like they’d tied a bunch of sticks to a larger stick. At least it did the job.

Once it was safe for dragon paw pads, Revaramek squeezed himself through the back doors and into The Cathedral. Now that it was dark, Beka and Tavaat were quick to coax a fire into the far hearth. As the flames grew, they cast their orange glow around the tavern. While his friends worked to light candles and lamps, Revaramek gazed around. He scrunched his muzzle. In his earlier hurry to chase down Aylaryl and Asterbury, he hadn’t even noticed how messy the place looked.

There were dirty clothes piled all over the tavern. Some of them were stained with soot, others with blood. Plates speckled with crumbs and crusted with old gravy littered the tables. Eating utensils sat alongside rolls of bandage. Unwashed mugs lay on the floor where they’d fallen and never been picked up. The booths that ran along one wall were filled with discarded bits of armor and other damaged items. Another booth held several stringed instruments. The corner stage now hosted several cots, each covered with tools that looked similar to those Enora had used to stitch his wounds. Revaramek sniffed around. The heavy aromas of ale, tobacco and food he’d remembered were all overwhelmed by less pleasant scents now. Old blood, ash and soot, stale human sweat.

Overhead, some of the arched cross-beams that supported the vaunted ceiling were cracked. The fissures were largest near the hole in the roof. The balcony that encircled the upper part of the Cathedral’s grand space sagged in the middle where more wooden struts bore fresh scars. Revaramek flattened his gold-tipped spines, hoping he hadn’t done so much damage that the place was going to cave in on him.

Beka popped up in front of him, holding a candle. Her face shone in wavering red, and the flame made the copper hue in her red-brown hair stand out. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

“What mess?” Revaramek used a hind paw to nudge aside a plate with a half-eaten meat pie.

Beka smiled, then turned to lead him over to the bar. “After the last attack, there were a lot of people…” She glanced at another pile of blood-stained rags. “Well, you know. And a lot more who worked themselves to a pulp putting out the fires that other dragon started. It wasn’t just the council hall, but she burned down guard posts, barracks, one of the gates.” Beka set her candle on the bar and slipped around behind it. “So, we’ve been cooking meals for all the people who fought the flames, and sifted through the wreckage, and the injured guards…”

“Normally, after some sort of catastrophic incident…” Jekk pulled up a stool. He tossed his rent sleeve onto the counter and gestured with his bare arm. “Be it a storm, or a fire, or an attack…we’d use the public hall in the council buildings as a staging area, to house or treat people. And we’d use the guard houses for additional shelter. But…”

“They burned them.” Tavaat set his broom against the counter, and ran his hands down his muzzle.

“While Vak-” Jekk scrunched his face. “Asterbury…lorded himself over us, in our chambers, tortured poor Kendrick, his dragon was out there burning…well, you heard Beka. She set flame to our chambers last, and we barely got out of their alive. Little rat seemed keen on our survival. I’m sure because he wants us…me…to see what happens to my poor village next.”

“You still seem pretty sure he’s that pup.” Revaramek pushed a few stools aside, and settled down near the old man.

“I’m…not really sure of anything, anymore. He was young, then, as was I. Now that he’s grown, he…they’d look alike, he could be either one.” He put his head in his hands, and gave a heavy sigh. “Not that it matters now.”

Beka cleared her throat and gave Revaramek a forced smile. “So how about that drink, then?”

“Oh, Gods yes.”

“I’ll pour, since we all know Tavaat can’t handle it.” Beka stuck her tongue out at the lizard, who only smirked.

Revaramek smiled at the two of them. “Oh, I don’t know, the ale lizard did a fine job serving his overlord the last time I was here.”

“Gods, don’t start that again.” Tavaat hopped up onto a stool and folded his arms.

“Only because there’s no right way to fill a bucket.” Beka dug out a few mugs from under the counter. “What would you like?”

“A bathtub full of your strongest ale.” Revaramek set his forepaws on the counter. “And put it on Mirelle’s tab.”

“I don’t think I could move a bathtub full of ale. But I have a clean soup pot around here.” Beka crouched down and dug around behind the counter. A few things clanked together. “Maybe. Ah! Here we are.” She stood back up with a large, cauldron-looking pot, then glanced at the other two. “Councilman? Tavaat?”

The va’chaak snorted, resting his gold-spotted muzzle in a hand. “Dead by Midnight.”

“That’s terribly unoptimistic, Tavaat.” Revaramek cocked his head, peering down at the va’chaak. “I doubt he’ll even be back till morning.” He swished his tail, the flexible spines and their sharp webbing scratched at the wooden floor. “We should last till at least noon or so.”

Beka fetched a mug, chuckling. “Dead by Midnight is the name of my latest ale. It’s one I’d been working on a bit in secret. I wanted to surprise Mirelle. I call it that because it’s quite dark, and quite strong, so if you drink too much in the evening, you’re likely to be…” She waved Tavaat’s mug. “Well, you know.”

“Oh, I’ll have that.” Revaramek rumbled, drumming claw tips against the scuffed wooden counter. “If it’s half as good as the one you served me last time I shall quite enjoy it. And I definitely need something strong right now.”

“I thought you might. It’s not really the sort of thing Tavaat, likes though.” She gave the lizardman a long look. “You sure? I don’t want you wasting my good ale after you have a few swallows and decide you don’t like it.”

“I like it better than the one that tastes like sugar and swamp water.” Tavaat slapped his hand against the bar. “Revaramek’s right. We all need something strong, and we’re out of mead.”

“Spirits.” Jekk rubbed his forehead.

“Nah, if I start slammin’ spirits, I’ll be passed out in an hour.”

“For me”. Jekk scowled at the lizard.

Beka filled a mug with dark, frothy ale and passed it to Tavaat. She fetched another for herself, and then poured Jekk a small glass of something astringent smelling that made Revaramek’s nose crinkle. She patted Revaramek’s paw. “Yours is coming, but it’s going to take the longest to pour.”

“That’s fine.” He licked his nose a few times. “That stuff you’re serving Jekk smells like what Enora cleaned my wounds with.”

“I should hope it’s better than that.” She handed the glass to Jekk. “You see, you take wine, or something like it, and then you-”

Jekk beckoned with his hand. “The bottle.”

Beka gave him a mock salute, clapping her fist to her chest. “Yes sir, former councilman.” She set the large glass bottle down on the counter near him. “We’re charging you for that.”

Jekk swallowed the glassful in a single gulp, and poured himself another.

Revaramek stretched his paws across the counter. “Ale, please.” He made grabbing motions with his forepaws. “Overlord want ale.”

“Right, sorry.” Beka fetched the soup pot, set it under the spigot, and opened the tap. Dark ale poured out far too slowly for Revaramek’s liking. “Where did you pick up all that overlord business, anyway?” She glanced over her shoulder at the dragon, red-brown hair swishing. “I mean…were you really some town’s overlord, before the truce?”

“He’s delusional.” Jekk gulped down another glass. “Our lives are in the hands of a delusional egotist of a dragon.”

“I wasn’t delusional, old man.” Revaramek dragged a single paw back across Mirelle’s counter, claw tips cutting lines in the wood. “I was lonely. Your truce and your rules cut me off from all my friends, one by one. And then you left me there in that marsh, waiting to be called upon. Waiting to be the hero I thought I was promising to be. A hero my mother would be proud of.”

Revaramek’s voice wavered, but his bronze gaze burned bright, shining a fiery hue in the candlelight. “And instead, you and your council left me out there to rot. So I lost myself in stories, the same tales my mother and the maidens from your village used to read to me. As I grew, I told myself a story where I was a great, benevolent overlord. In it, I ruled the lands that your people stole from us, feared yet beloved by all who set eyes upon me. Some days I lost myself in stories so deeply I almost believed I really was beloved. And then I’d…wake again, to some angry guard, some furious farmer, some reminder that instead, I was alone.”

Revaramek swallowed at the growing lump in his throat. His eyes burned, threatening tears that he willed away. “I was alone because you’d stripped away everyone who once cared about me. And you bound me to a truce that made me turn my back on everyone I cared about. In time, I was left protecting a city that didn’t even want me anymore. But I gave my word to be your hero. So I lingered here, alone…and eased my loneliness with another story. I may be an egotist, Jekk, but I wasn’t delusional. I was lonely.” He tilted his head, still glaring at the old man. “Any other comments?”

Jekk stared into his glass of spirits. “Sorry.” He downed his drink.

Revaramek snorted, baring his fangs. “Luckily for you, I am a hero. Otherwise you’d really be mounted.” He turned his head back to Beka. “How’s that ale coming?”

Beka hefted up the pot full of ale, and set it on the counter. She sniffed, and then ran around the bar to throw herself against Revaramek. She hugged as much of him as she could fit in her arms. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t have to be lonely anymore! You can stay here with us, as long as you want!”

“Aarrrr.” The dragon gave a little murmuring coo. He opened a wing and hugged Beka with it, smiling down at her. “Thank you, Subject Beka. I…I am…not lonely now. I have…you, and…Ale Lizard…” Revaramek ignored Tavaat’s glare. He perked his gold-tipped spines, smiling. “And Mirelle! She offered me her friendship, in the cave, before we slept together.”

Jekk choked on his drink, coughing heavily.

Beka blinked, staring up at him. Her face twitched as she fought back a smirk. “I…don’t think that came out the way you meant it.”

“No, you’re right.” Revaramek cocked his head, ears splaying. “To be fair, I asked her if she’d give it to me.”

Beka snorted, struggling against a giggle as she shook her head. “Also not how you should say that.”

“Nah, that’s a keeper.” Tavaat laughed and took a long drink from his ale. He wiped froth from his muzzle. “Can’t wait to ask Mirelle all about how she gave it up to a dragon.”

Revaramek eased his wing back so Beka could slip away. “I do appreciate all your sentiments. I’d like to think we’ve been friends ever since you bathed me, Beka.”

Jekk choked on his drink again.

Revaramek glanced over at him. “Take it slower, old man, you’re going to injure yourself.” He lowered his muzzle, sniffed at the pot full of ale. The scent was sweet, like overripe fruit, with hints of spices and smoke. “This smells…quite good.”

Beka slapped Tavaat on the back of the head as she walked past him. The lizard yelped and rubbed one of his frills, grumbling. She moved around the bar again, and gave the dragon a smile. “Glad to hear.” Then she shot Jekk a glare. “I should charge you double on poor, lonely Rev’s behalf.”

Jekk stared into his glass, swirling the faintly gold-hued liquid within. “The dragons attacked first.”

“Sounds like a fine excuse.” Beka took a long drink from her own glass.

Revaramek glared at him. “I thought I told you to stop blaming everyone else.”

Jekk sipped his spirits, waving his bare arm at the dragon. “There’s never a good excuse for what we did. But at the time, we saw it as defending ourselves. Our first people here were surveyors, as usual. The dragons killed a lot of them. I don’t know the whys. Maybe our people provoked them, or maybe they knew hostility from other travelers. In a world like this, we probably weren’t the first to reach them.”

He took another sip, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter now. But back then, some of our earlier attempts in other worlds had already failed. But this world was perfect. It was clear it could support us. So we came back ready for war, and war we waged. That was…” Jekk set his glass down, and wrung his hands. “Before my time. I came here with another group, years later, once our defenses were set, once most of the natives were pacified.”

“Did you say other worlds?” Beka put her hand on the bottle. “Maybe you’ve had enough, Councilman.”

Revaramek lowered his head to nudge Beka with his muzzle. “Let him talk, Beka. How…how many have you had, Jekk? Colonies, I mean. How many…” Revaramek swept a wing out behind himself, gesturing in an arc. “Like this?”

“I’m not sure.” Jekk took the bottle back. “A dozen or so, by the time I came here. Some of them had long-since collapsed. But this place had everything we’d ever need.” He sipped his drink, scowling. “It could save us. We had to have it. So the things we did to you dragons, to the va’chaak…” He glanced at Tavaat. “To the gryphons, the urd’thin…to the people here in this world and elsewhere…we never did it out of malice. We did it out of necessity, or so we thought. Some of others, we lost them because the locals attacked, ended it before it even began. Other places…” He sighed and shook his head.

“Some stories just rejected you.” Revaramek lapped up some of his ale. In the corner of his vision, he saw Beka and Tavaat exchanging confused glances. Jekk rolled his eyes, but Revaramek ignored him. He licked his muzzle, turning his head towards his friends. “You see, this world is all…a story, of sorts. And Asterbury…and myself, apparently…are from different stories.”

Jekk wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know, for the longest time I never quite bought into the story theory. But now…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Revaramek waved his paw. “The point is Jekk here was part of the group that first colonized this place.”

Beka finished off her ale, her cheeks a little reddened in the candlelight. “We already knew that.” She turned and filled up her mug, then did the same for Tavaat. “We’re a sort of, refuge, right? Founded after you fled the kingdom to the west.”

“You’re right about the refuge part.” Jekk poured himself another drink. “But the kingdom…well, if there was ever a kingdom to the west, it was gone long before you were ever born. We aren’t here escaping tyranny. We’re here because our world collapsed. And the first we fled to? Crumbled into ruin. And Asterbury’s home?” Jekk struck a fist against the counter. “It’s a cycle. We perpetuated it without ever realizing it until it was far too late. But here…”

Jekk thumped a single finger against the counter, glaring at unseen foes. “Here, in this place, we finally got it right. I got it right. It was my choice to cut us off from everything we’d ever been. Our travels, our weapons, our history, our power. We picked and chose people in need from from other worlds we’d been too, places we had access too. People who could live here, who could make whatever we required. And when we felt ready, I sent everyone else away. Off to try and find another home, so that this one…this one would be safe.”

Revaramek wiped froth from his snout with a paw. “Safe from what?”

“Safe from us.” Jekk took a deep breath, held it as long as he could, and heaved a great sigh. “From the Storytellers.”

Revaramek curled his neck, gazing down at Jekk. The old man looked lost. “That’s what Asterbury said you called yourselves.”

Jekk gave a single nod. “We did. He’s right about some things. We did ruin our world, and it seems we made him ruin his. But it wasn’t as if we were doing it on purpose.” He held out a single, bony hand, grasping at phantoms. A hint of a smile crossed his face. “You see, there was a time, long before I was born, when we were the hidden power behind a great king, and a greater civilization. In that time, we traveled freely to other worlds, traveled to other…” He glanced at the dragon, face twisting. “Stories, if you will. We chronicled them. Learned of events that happened, learned what caused their downfalls, or their successes. Learned how their stories ended. We believed with that knowledge we could guide our own story better than the gods themselves.”

Revaramek’s ears perked. He lifted his head a little. “What was that last bit?”

“We thought we knew better than our own gods how our lives should be lived.” Jekk drained the glass and set it down with a snarl. “Most believe that’s why we called ourselves The Storytellers. But you see-”

“That isn’t how you put it before.” Revaramek tapped a few claws against the battered countertop. He scrunched his muzzle, glancing at his ale. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.”

“How did you…” Beka worked her mug back and forth between her hands, her brow furrowed. “I mean…supposing I believe half this nonsense, how did you do it? Travel between worlds?”

The dragon arched his neck, gazing down at the man in the black robe. “Actually, yes, explain that. Asterbury is very keen to know how I got here.”

Jekk sneered, pouring himself a bit more. “I bet he is.” He ran a single finger around the rim of his glass. “That is…one of our greatest secrets. Looking back, it almost seems our most terrifying. Few in our organization ever knew. I learned from my father, and he himself only learned when it was far too late.” Jekk set both hands on the bar. They both trembled. “They…they think he called to us by accident.”

Revaramek scrunched his muzzle, his tail tip twitching. “Who?”

The only man only shrugged. “They say he breached the void without ever truly intending it. One night, the gate was just…” He swallowed, staring into nothingness. “There. He opened an impossible door, and called to our ancestors with a siren song they could not resist. They followed through the gate. And…they found an empty world, and something…new. Some…being. Innocent and pure, in his way.”

A cascaded of ice started at the base of Revaramek’s skull, and rattled him all the way to his tail spines. He mouthed words, but no sound came out. Oh, Gods, no…

“He was…childlike, unsure of his power, and uncertain of himself. He only wanted…companionship. Like a lonely youth in search of a friend, as surprised to have drawn them to him as they were to be in his presence. He knew their language just by having them there. The world to him was but a story to be told, and at last he had his audience. He spun them stories, and they came to life all around him. He plucked tales from their minds, and built his empty world anew to match. Again, and again, he brought that barren world to life all around them.”

No one touched their drinks. Every stared at Jekk.

Jekk downed his glass, and poured himself another with a shaking hand. “He called himself The Storyteller. Most people think we’re named after what we did. But the truth is, that encounter so changed us that we named ourselves after him. And he…he gave us a great gift. He gave us…”

“His power?” Revaramek shivered, scales clicking.

“Part of it.” Jekk traced sigils with a finger. “We had but sparks and embers of his great flame, but it changed our very world. He was like a child, giving gifts to those he thought a friend, with no true understanding of the vastness of what he was giving us. And like children ourselves, we did not know how to hold back.”

When no one else spoke up, the old man took a sip of his drink. “Those he’d touched soon claimed they could see reality as a physical thing, as if it were but scribed on vellum. Or like clay, to be molded. They saw unseen gaps, fractures, and through them, they glimpsed other existences. So using the power The Storyteller imbued in them, they built gates in the great chasms between worlds. Ancient places, redolent with old powers, like his. They were simple gates at first, but soon vastly more complex. They could take us anywhere.”

“So you started exploring?” Revaramek lapped at his ale, just to ease the dryness in his long throat.

“We traveled.” Jekk tapped his fingers against the bottle. “We learned of the other worlds, chronicled their histories, and often, saw what lead them astray. But you see, it wasn’t just the ability to pierce through the void that he gave us. Those he’d touched, they could...”

“Change the story.” Revaramek ran his tongue over his muzzle. His frills tingled and stood on end. “Like him.”

“If that’s the way you want to put it, yes.” Jekk leaned back, folding his arms. He closed his eyes. “It must have seemed like such a boon, at first. A way to cure disease, to end wars, to rebuild shattered cities…Noble ideas, but reality is a finite fabric. The more you alter it, the more it unravels. Every gate, every change…Without ever realizing it, we had pierced a thousand holes in the very weave of our world, and at last it crumbled.”

Jekk lifted the bottle. His hand shook so much liquid sloshed within.

Tavaat gave a grunt. “You keep downing that, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“You say that like it’s going to matter, come tomorrow.” Jekk set the bottle back down, glancing at Revaramek.

“What happened?” Revaramek reached out to steady Jekk’s bony arm under a powerful paw. “After your world crumbled?”

“We fled to a new one.” Jekk gave the dragon’s paw a long, confused look, but did not pull his hand away. “We were so sure that was the answer. We had armies of men, and dragons, and weapons from other worlds.”

Revaramek sucked in a breath, his wings stiffening. “You had dragons?”

“And other creatures. Long before my time, we’d brought many things under our control.” Jekk stared down at Revaramek’s paw. “But in the end, they couldn’t protect us from our hubris. It was a cycle. The more we tried to control the new world, the more we tried to shape it to our needs, the more we ruined it. So we tried to follow him.”

“Follow who?” Revaramek cocked his head.

“The Storyteller.” Jekk lifted his glass again, but the trembling of his hand left the liquor spilling over his fingers. Beka came and steadied his hand. He gave her a thankful glance. “He’d long since closed that first door to his empty, malleable world. Some of us believed he was fearful of what we’d wrought, what he’d accidentally given us the power to do. That he’d witnessed our world’s end. Others thought…if could find him, we could get him to help us set things right. So…we tried to open the door he’d so long ago closed. We thought it worked, at first, but we were wrong. So very wrong.”

A terrible idea slunk around the darkest corners of Revaramek’s mind. “That was it, wasn’t it. The third place you tried to call home. World 3.”

“World 3.” Jekk took another careful sip. “That was its original designation.”

“What…what’s World 3?” Beka glanced back and forth between them.

Revaramek held up his paw, a silent plea for patience.

Jekk turned his head to peer at Beka, old ghosts swirling behind his rheumy eyes. “As our histories tell it, that was when we discovered that there was not one version of a world, but many. We’d opened a space we were never meant to follow and we thought we glimpsed a story’s end, long past. Maybe even ours. It terrified us, and in our great fear, we confused creation for destruction.”

The old man finished his drink. He went to pour himself another, but his hand’s violent shaking wouldn’t let him. Beka poured it for him. He thanked her again and continued. “Yes, The Storyteller had been there, but where we thought his power had ruined that world, it was bringing it back to life. He’d made something beautiful there, something pure. He’d breathed life into a dead world, so that he would not be alone. From the wasteland, he forged a desert. From the poisoned ocean far beyond it, he formed a primeval swamp. He birthed a people, simple and pure, and gave them his great power that they might live in such a harsh place. They had the power not just to withstand the forces that ruined that world, but to reverse them. That simple tribe was meant to grow and flourish, and through them, the world would know life again. A new story born from another’s ending. And then…” Jekk took a deep breath, shuddering to his core. “The Storyteller took his place amongst them as their guide, their guardian. Their first chief. And in time, that world became…”

Revaramek closed his eyes, heaving the name as a long sigh. “Asterbury’s.”

“Asterbury’s. Asterbury’s people were The Storyteller’s children.”

“Dear Gods, Jekk!” Revaramek lifted his head, his eyes wide. He slammed his forepaws down against the counter. “What manner of powers were you toying with? And you…you tortured these creatures?”

Jekk put his head in his hands, his voice muffled. “We didn’t know.”

“How is that an excuse?”

“It isn’t.” Where Revaramek grew more agitated, Jekk withdrew further into himself. He seemed to sink away into his robe. “Most of us, in that colony, where I was born…we didn’t know anything about The Storyteller. We didn’t know those creatures were bringing that wasteland back to life. All we saw was a species who could do even more than we could. We thought they’d jump at the chance to help us if we offered to help fix their broken world in turn. So we asked, and they refused. We begged, and they fled from us. We pursued them, and so they fought with us. We battled them with our powers, our beasts…but it was never enough. So, we built a colony, bided our time. Years passed, maybe decades? I was born in that time. At long last, after my father took command, we captured some. But even then, we didn’t know what they were.”

Jekk picked up his glass. He held it in quivering fingers, watching beads of liquid run down it and drip away. “They were like…imperfect gods, never in full control of their power. They had a system in place to ensure they’d never go too far. They believed the gods would punish them if they did. So we thought they weren’t strong enough. We didn’t know they were just holding back, even when cornered. Even faced with capture.”

“Dear Gods, Jekk.” Revaramek put his muzzle in his paws.

“We finally caught two of them, stronger than any we’d ever seen.” Jekk heaved a guttural sigh. “You recognized the name, so you know who they were. I never saw the rest, myself. I think the father meant to give himself up, to save the others, to leave his son to care for the tribe, if they had one. But…”

Revaramek felt sick. The ale he’d drank churned in his belly, sour and angry. “He came to save his father, didn’t he.”

“He came to save his father. So we caught him, too. We put them both in collars and manacles of shadowstone. A substance of great power, from a world that…well, the important thing is we thought it would contain their abilities. Till we could…convince them to work for us. We had to make them comply, to save our world.” Jekk sipped what was left from his glass. “Healing seemed to be the hardest thing for them, so that was what we focused on, to make them stronger. And so we hurt them when they wouldn’t comply. And we made them using their healing. For years we pushed…and pushed. Until at last, we shattered their belief. Till they knew no god would punish them, nor save them. And so they saved themselves…and they shattered the world.”

Revaramek could only stare at Jekk in horror. “Jekk…what have you unleashed upon us?”

“I think they were meant to transform that world. To rebuild it, bit, by bit. To spread life.” Jekk’s shoulders sagged beneath his robe. His head hung low. “The father, I…I think he knew what he was. What they were. We had an ember of The Storyteller’s power, but those two? They had his full flame. The father feared it, feared what would happen if he just…changed everything, all at once. But I’m not sure he knew there was another side to the world, a forest, a swamp. I sometimes wonder if The Storyteller started new life there as well.”

Jekk tilted his head, giving the dragon a long, strange look. “Maybe there should have been a version of that world where you…you grew up in a beautiful place, where the water was clean, and you some refuge there to live out your days. But what they unleashed, it washed all that away. It remade the world, and ensured that nothing that once dwelled there could survive the coming change. I used to think it happened because the pup gave his life to free his father.”

Revaramek swallowed, his tail curling. “I’m…starting to think some version of him did.”

Jekk gave a single nod. “All the father had left then was grief. No son, no gods to believe in. Maybe no tribe left, without his protection. Even if he could have stopped what the pup started, why would he? Not when he could let the world drown in poison to ensure we’d never be able to survive there.”

“And in…some other version…” Revaramek’s wings hung limp at his sides. Some horrifying reality pieced itself together inside his head. “The pup thinks he let the father die, hoping to save his people. But there are no people left, are there? They…they couldn’t survive without the father. So the pup’s alone. He thinks he let his father die for nothing. And in his grief, the whole world cries poison tears for him. It’s the same thing…It always leads to the swamp. And it always leads to Asterbury.”

Jekk gave a long, harrowing sigh, and put his face in his hands.

Revaramek worked his jaws a few times, kneading a paw against the counter. “Earlier today, he showed me four stories. They’re all about Vakaal, and his father. Asterbury said they all end differently, but they always lead to him. This is what he meant. He’s…he’s seen them all. He’s known all their loss. He’s felt all their pain! He’s not just the father, or the pup.” The dragon’s frills shivered, cold tingles ran through him. “He’s all of them.”

After a moment of silence, Jekk lifted his head. “Maybe so.” He folded his hands in his lap, staring at them. “Much of what I’ve told you I…learned from own father, after the fact. He was…very high ranking. The rest I pieced together myself, and…discovered in our sacred tomes, only handed to me when I was made the commander of a new colony.” He lifted his eyes again, his gaze hardening. “When that chance was offered to me, I leapt at it. I knew terrible things had been done to ensure our survival, but I also knew I had a chance to make things right for us.” He lifted his arms, waving a hand. “I didn’t have powers, you see, and…when I believed we were safe here, I sent away all those who did. And then I had our gates destroyed.”

The old man’s voice strengthened for the first time since he’d started talking. “I cut every tie we had. I banished any mention of us, of what we were. I had fake histories forged. I did all this not out of shame, but to ensure no one could repeat our old mistakes. I had to make sure there was no one here who could ruin this world. I was so sure I’d stopped the cycle, that this place would be safe. And for a time, we knew peace. Some days I almost forgot all about Vakaal and his father.”

“They haven’t forgotten you.” Revaramek stared down into his ale. How could he ever stop something like that?

“No. No, they haven’t. And so the sins of my youth will be the doom of us all.”

Revaramek lifted his head. He put a forepaw on the old man’s bony back. “Don’t worry, Jekk. I’m the hero. I’ll decide when we’re all doomed.”

“That is…even less comforting than it sounds.”

Revaramek grunted. He lapped at his ale while silence settled in.

“I’m…sorry.” Jekk stood up, wobbling. “I…I just…I thought you should know.” He set a bony hand on Revaramek’s foreleg. “And I’m…sorry for…the way we…the way I…well, I’m sorry for all of it.”

“Stop talking like we’re all about to die.” Revaramek grit his teeth. He appreciated the man’s sentiment, but now was not the time to make amends. Now was the time to be a hero. “I don’t think he’s a god. Not quite, anyway. He’s still vulnerable. I think I almost killed him at Enora’s. And I don’t think he…wait, wait!” Something clicked all at once in Revaramek’s head. “I think I know what he can’t do! He…that…The Storyteller! If he feared what you did to yourselves, Jekk, maybe there’s one power he wouldn’t have given his children…”

“What are you on about?”

Revaramek took a deep breath. Ideas were flying about too fast in the dragon’s head for him to put them to words. “I think I have a plan. But…”

“But what?” Beka put a hand on the dragon’s paw, gazing up at him.

“But Mirelle’s going to be so mad at me.”

*****

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