Along Came A Dragon

Along Came A Dragon is set a decade before Mage Errant. (Also, I've come to realize that I really enjoy writing short stories about fools.)

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Xandrefax Sphinxslayer had soared through the skies of a half dozen worlds, had looted dozens of towns and cities. He’d slain countless warriors, mages, and monsters. Other dragons feared him, and even the warriors of the Scaled Khanate showed him respect.

For all that, he still felt a moment of doubt. Still felt awe as he soared through a sky like any other.

He had been told of Limnus’ immensity, but he hadn’t truly believed it. Had been told of its layers of deadly yellow and purple clouds, had been told of its impossibly huge trees, and had been told of its great beasts. He hadn’t believed until he’d passed safely through the labyrinth and seen the strange world.

Lesser dragons feared Limnus— feared the flying predators that rivaled them in size, suffered from the toxic brimstone fumes that drifted down from the yellow clouds above, worried about what immense beasts lurked in the burning purple clouds below.

Xandrefax had one single moment of doubt. Just one.

And then he remembered who he was.

He was Xandrefax, an elder wyrm nearly two hundred feet long. He was Xandrefax, who wielded fire and wind magics from four worlds and knew the enchanting traditions of two more. He was Xandrefax, who had magically whittled his horns into bone scimitars, and then layered them with runic inscriptions until they were unnaturally strong and sharp. He was Xandrefax, whose black and gold scales had been inscribed with the runes of those two different worlds, reinforced until they could turn away siege weapons and spells with ease. 

He was Xandrefax, who had hunted down nearly two-score sphinxes, those disgusting abominations who had been engineered along with gryphons when the servant races had risen up against the draconic empire, had cast down their rightful rulers.

He was Xandrefax, and he had heard of the strange magics of this dragonless world, magics that reinforced and enhanced the body. He would take those magics for himself.

And then he would take this world. For himself, and for dragon-kind.

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Xandrefax found one of the pathetic flower villages of Limnus’ feral human population within an hour of his arrival. They had obviously seen him, and gathered just outside their village at his approach. He didn’t hesitate before descending, summoning a great spiral burst of flame behind him as he landed.

“Rejoice, vermin!” Xandrefax called. “I bring you the certainty of the shepherd, the comfort of the king! You may rest easy, now that you are freed of the burdens of choice! You may give homage to your new liege! You may bow before Xandrefax Sphinxslayer!”

They would not understand him, of course. They would speak some worthless local tongue. But they would understand force, understand might. They would understand…

“Hello!” one of the milling human scum called. “So are you Xandrefax, or are you just here to introduce him?”

The great dragon blinked in bemusement at the misshapen green human. He had not expected his new servants to speak Old Draconic, even with such a thick accent. Had Xandrefax been led astray about the absence of dragonkind on this world?

No. No, Xandrefax would know if there were other dragons here. Would have smelled them, would have recognized the signs of their territory. 

His guides had told him this world was a crossroads, that multiversal travelers were common here. The locals must have heard of the majesty of the dragons from those travelers, must have wisely chosen to prepare themselves for their future rulers.

“You have the honor of standing before Xandrefax, mortals,” he said. “You are permitted to kneel, to…”

“Why do you keep speaking about yourself in the third person, instead of just introducing yourself normally?” another Limnan asked. This one was even more malformed than the last, with rubbery blue skin and octopus suckers on her arms.

“What are you blathering on about?” Xandrefax demanded. “You should be honored by my mere presence, by…”

“He didn’t do it that time,” a third human said. “So it’s a personal choice, and not a cultural thing, I’m guessing?”

“You don’t know that,” a fourth human, one with antenna and backward knees said. “Maybe he’s just bad at maintaining his cultural traditions.”

“We’re being rude right now,” a fifth human said. This one had scales and talons, and was far less hideous than normal humans.

“Wise of you to finally come to that realization,” Xandrefax said. “Now you may…”

The scaled person interrupted him. “Is talking in third person a cultural thing, or just a personal aesthetic choice? We should have waited for your answer, instead of continually interrupting you.”

“You just interrupted me now, to apologize for interrupting me,” Xandrefax pointed out.

“No I didn’t,” the scaled human said. “And you still haven’t answered the question.”

Xandrefax just stared at the scaled human, struggling to wrap his mind around the creature’s sheer insubordination and disrespect.

Then, before any of the infuriating little creatures could provoke him further, Xandrefax roared.

His call rolled out over the immense branch, echoed among the vast open spaces and mountainous trees. It stretched for leagues in every direction, up into the yellow clouds and down into the purple.

For a moment, the world went silent. And then, in every direction, creatures began to call. Vast bellows, piercing shrieks, and chittering wails exploded across the soundscape, cutting off the lingering echoes of Xandrefax’s roar.

Xandrefax considered roaring once more to silence the impudent animals, but chose the more dignified path of silence instead.

Then he turned his baleful gaze once more on the impudent mortal whose scales had given them delusions of grandeur. “Xandrefax speaks this way out of awe at Xandrefax’s own majesty. Xandrefax expects his new subjects to speak in even greater awe.”

The scaled human sighed, but the dragon didn’t give them a chance to interject.

“Right now, though, Xandrefax has a more immediate demand— your new ruler hungers. Bring your lord meat.”

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To Xandrefax’s irritation, only seven of the villagers spoke Old Draconic, and only six with any fluency. While he waited for his meal, he commanded one of the six— the one with antennae and backward-facing knees- to commence classes to teach the rest of the humans proper speech.

Xandrefax spent an hour surveying his new domain while he waited for his meal. He wandered about the village, treading carefully about the strange flower houses. It would be uncouth of him to destroy any by accident— though he fully expected to need to level at least one or two to teach the impudent villagers a lesson.

Though he was careful not to show his attention, his keen ear and nose easily picked out which of the flower houses hid the village’s children— unsurprisingly, the largest. The villagers would have been wiser to spread their children between their homes— clustering them together like this just made it easier for him to hold them hostage.

No, he had been told something of the locals’ customs with children. They weren’t just hiding the children from him, but from the world. They kept their children’s exposure to the outside world limited, that they might not mutate too much before adulthood?

How foolish to sacrifice greater strength, just to hold onto pathetic human form for longer.

When his meat finally arrived, in the form of an immense winged eel of some sort, Xandrefax bared his teeth in disgust.

“I can smell the poison, humans. You are fools if you think you can slay Xandrefax so easily.”

Most of the humans just ignored him, and began butchering the huge eel.

“It’s not poisoned,” the scaled human told him. “We’re going to eat some too. It’s just a resident of the upper clouds, has lots of sulfur in it. If a few tiny humans can handle it, surely the mighty Xandrefax can as well?”

“Of course I… of course Xandrefax can digest anything such petty mortals as you may digest.”

“Alright then, food should be ready in a couple of hours.”

Xandrefax just sniffed, and began looking for an appropriate spot to lair. 

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By the time the food was ready Xandrefax still hadn’t found an appropriate lair. He’d tested out several nearby branches, but none were quite right. And, to his shock, he found that he was incapable of hollowing out a burrow in the trunk. Oh, he could claw and burn through the bark easily enough, but the wood of the skyspear trees? It was so dense and strong that it would probably take him months to dig a proper sized burrow. Merely scratching the stuff took significant effort, even from his magically sharpened sword-horns.

It mattered not. Nothing on this world could possibly pose a threat to the great Xandrefax Sphinxslayer. It would not harm him to sleep in the open for a night or two— not even his dignity, for his dignity was even more impenetrable than his scales.

When he returned to the village, following the scent of cooking meat, he found that the peasants had prepared an outdoor feast-hall, with fully half of it dedicated to Xandrefax’s portion of the meal.

His new peasants had cooked the eel in thin sheets— elsewise it likely would have taken days to finish. They had split the eel almost precisely in half between themselves and Xandrefax, which rankled him a bit— but for all that a dragon’s share should always be greater than half, Xandrefax could privately admit that he’d probably struggle to finish his half.

The peasants had already started eating by the time he had stretched out in front of his own portion— to prove to him that the food truly wasn’t poisoned, obviously.

The meat… was odd, but not bad. The sulfurous flavors hung heavy over his palate, but the meat’s texture was excellent.

As he ate, he couldn’t help but notice that the villagers were arguing noisily among themselves about something.

“What are they yelling about?” Xandrefax demanded of the human with rubbery blue skin.

“They’re discussing Xato’s newest work, Absurdist Ontologies,” the human said, looking up from her food. “In it, Xato takes the ideas of eight other philosophers to their logical extremes and beyond, to see what sort of absurd nonsense their systems produce under stress.”

Xandrefax just snorted at that. Clearly, whoever had taught these villagers Old Draconic had done a very poor job, to allow their students to spout such incomprehensible nonsense.

“I have no interest in your little superstitions,” Xandrefax said, and turned back to his meal.

If he didn’t know better, he would say that his new servant was judging him, but that was self-evidently impossible— the only rational, sane reaction to his presence among human vermin was awe.

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Xandrefax slept heavily that night, sprawled out on the massive branch out past the flower village.

And when he awoke, he awoke in horrible, wrenching gut pain.

The dragon barely made it to the edge of the branch before emptying his bowels— which barely alleviated the pain.

It took long minutes before Xandrefax’s pain thinned enough for other thoughts to work their way into his mind, for other feelings to rise.

The first thing to surface in his mind was wrath.

His new servants had attempted to poison him. Were probably watching him with mockery from their village right this moment.

It was a doomed effort, of course. Xandrefax was far too mighty to succumb to whatever primitive poisons his new subjects could harvest from their surroundings. But for their audacity, they would be punished.

Xandrefax considered exterminating the whole village, but who knew how difficult it might be to find new translators on this benighted world? No, best to carry out a more symbolic punishment— exterminating their children, or their elderly. Or perhaps one in four of their number chosen by lots.

When he turned his attention to the village— though he was still trapped at the edge of the branch— he found that, peer as he might with his senses both mundane and magical, there was no sign of life.

His new subjects had fled while he slept.

Cowards. 

No matter. He would track them. It would be easy— few beings in the multiverse could hide their scents from Xandrefax Sphinxslayer.

He took a deep breath, ready to begin the hunt once his bowels allowed, but a new odor caught his attention immediately.

Something human, but not. Something dangerous. Something huge.

Something approaching rapidly.

Xandrefax reached for his magics in… not in terror. In readiness, for nothing caught him by surprise.

And when a colossal alien form rose up on the other side of the branch, once that dwarfed even him, it was immediately bathed in a vast column of fire and wind magics from four worlds, swiftly joined by his own dragonfire.

Xandrefax held the assault for as long as he could, though the beast had surely fallen out of the sky by now. Had surely…

A slender, pale, bony arm reached out of the maelstrom of flame, and ponderously descended to grip the bark of the branch Xandrefax crouched atop. Well, slender in proportion to its length— the arm was at least twice the length of Xandrefax himself.

And then a second arm followed the first, followed by a third, then a fourth, until Xandrefax lost count, until there were at least a dozen of the limbs clutching the bark.

Then the creature pulled itself forward out of the maelstrom. Loomed over Xandrefax, seemingly ignoring the liquid dragonfire burning in patches across its titanic body.

The beast opened its mouth, wide enough to bite Xandrefax in half. “That, little dragon, was very, very rude.”

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Xandrefax did not fear the beast that faced him, but he had to admit, he was in a tactically unsound position. His bowels were still noisily betraying him, his fire magic had proven useless, and he knew little of the monster’s capabilities.

No matter. Xandrefax had faced worse. Had triumphed over worse.

And he would triumph now.

He let his fire and wind magics end, and took his first good look at the creature.

The thing vaguely resembled one of those cloak garments humans wore. It had no legs or other visible limbs besides its many pale arms— just drifting folds of pitch-black membrane that imitated the flow of a cloak, all drifting without visible means of support in the sky.

Inside its cloak-like form, Xandrefax could see hints of solidity, hints of shape deeper within, but he could not make sense of them.

The only parts of its body that weren’t pitch black were its arms and its face.

The face was composed of the same pale, bone-like material as the arms, appeared mostly rigid, save for even lighter flesh connecting the face’s moving plates and forming its lips. The face was almost human-like, but surely had never been human. Even the form-altering magic of this world surely could not achieve something like this.

But the eyes…

The eyes were unquestionably human. Oh, they had nictating membranes and armored lids, and were larger than a full-grown human, but their irises and pupils looked little different than any human Xandrefax had ever met.

“That was quite rude,” the monster repeated. “As a matter of fact, your behavior on this entire visit has been nothing but rude. Hence why my descendants needed to send for me from the depths.”

“How did you survive my fires?” Xandrefax demanded.

“I dwell in the deepest levels of Limnus. I swim in iodine gas hot and dense enough incinerate most life, I bathe in molten stone hot enough to melt metal. Your fires are an annoyance, Xandrefax.”

“How do you know my name?” the dragon demanded.

The monster’s bone face smiled wryly. “My descendants told me, little dragon. You waste both our time with such silly questions.”

“I do not fear you, monster. This is my land, now, and…”

The monster laughed, in deceptively human tones. “What land, little dragon? This is Limnus. This is a world of sky and branch, not a world of land.”

Xandrefax snarled. “This is my world, then. I will not be spoken to with such disrespect.”

The monster leaned forward on its spindly host of arms. “You have not earned any respect, little dragon. And demanding respect you have not earned only moves it farther away.”

Xandrefax opened his mouth to snarl, to curse the strange being, but it spoke over him.

“I’m not particularly interested in arguing with you over your silly claims and demands, little dragon. No. I’m here for one reason and one reason only— to judge what is to be done with you.”

“Who are you to judge one such as me?” Xandrefax demanded. “By what right do you judge me?”

“Ahhhhh… finally interesting questions,” the monster said, sighing happily. “Finally you speak of something that doesn’t waste my time. By what right do I judge you? I could claim right of custom, point to millennia of tradition, for we Limnans have always summoned our elders, to judge dangerous interlopers. But what care do you have for our customs? They are not yours. I could claim moral right, for you have certainly crossed moral lines, but what do you care? Conquerors such as you always believe themselves above those moral lines.”

The monster leaned even closer. “By what right do I judge you then? Simple enough. By right of might. By strength of limb and talon. By the very law you live by.”

Xandrefax tensed, prepared himself for battle. This beast might be fireproof, but it would swiftly fall before his talons and his sword-horns. 

But the creature merely leaned back, eying him thoughtfully. “As for who I am, little dragon… my name is Oudho, and I am a historian. A historian specialized, in fact, in the Draconic Empire. You may consider this a strange coincidence, but my descendants and students established themselves near the labyrinth you arrived by for good reason. It is, after all, one of the most common routes dragons arrive in this world.”

Xandrefax snorted in disdain at that. “It is not strange at all that you should study the Draconic Empire, for what other period of history is worth studying? And do not lie to me about past dragons, for if dragons had deigned to visit this world before, it would be under proper rulership, would have properly trained serfs.”

The monster sighed. “Pity. There are so many great minds among dragonkind, so many great mages and scholars, so many worthy philosophers, and yet we always get the intellectual dregs. Fools like you?”

“How dare you?” bellowed Xandrefax. “You stand before your better. You should be bowing before me, not spouting this impudent nonsense! Apologize at once, or face my wrath!”

Several of the monster’s— Oudho’s— bony limbs lifted from the bark, and drifted slowly towards him. “Do you genuinely believe you can triumph against me, little dragon? How curious. We may test that assertion, if you like.”

Xandrefax flared his wings, forcibly suppressed his roiling gut, and prepared to launch himself at Oudho.

And then he paused.

Before, when he had bellowed, the wildlife of Limnus had raised their voices in rage and challenge, ready to defend their territory from him. Had shown their bestial stupidity in daring to challenge him.

But this time, when he’d raised his mighty voice at Oudho, they hadn’t responded. Hadn’t made a peep.

And Xandrefax couldn’t force himself to believe that they’d learned to fear him in a single night.

He watched Oudho drift in front of him, seemingly unconcerned, and then Xandrefax slowly lowered his wings, eased away from combat posture.

“Ahhh,” Oudho said. “A little bit of wisdom. You should recover from your gastrointestinal distress within a few hours, little dragon. Your kind can adapt to sulfur-laden meat like you ate easily enough. Once you are fully recovered, I shall escort you back to the labyrinth, so you may go on your way. In the meantime, shall we speak of your kind’s fallen empire? I have so few to discuss it with who aren’t my own students.”

Xandrefax snorted. “You have no knowledge of the Empire I lack, no insights worth hearing. I will leave this world once I am recovered, beast, but do not think you have heard the last of me. For though you may be my match alone, even you cannot withstand a flight of my peers. I shall raise an army, shall call for the aid of the Scaled Khanate or one of the lesser draconic hordes. We shall make of your world a larder for our kind, shall exterminate all of your worthless descendants, and you shall regret the day you thought yourself above any dragon.”

Oudho’s face contorted, and for a moment, Xandrefax’s heart rose. But rather than twist into fear, the monster’s face fell into… sadness?

No. Into despair, surely. Despair at the knowledge of the fate Oudho had earned his worthless little world. Despair at…

“I suspected your pride to be too strong for wisdom, but I had hoped otherwise, Xandrefax Sphinxslayer. But it is ever so, isn’t it? A fool bearing power cannot tolerate wisdom or knowledge, and despises all scholars. They only seek distorted mirrors, lackeys who will echo their words and fill their ears with praise.”

Oudho’s vast form began lifting higher into the air. 

“It was the rise of fools like you into power that truly doomed the Draconic Empire. It was fools like you that have plagued and weakened every empire, every civilization that concentrates their power too far. On every world, in every time.”

Xandrefax raised his wings again, preparing to throw himself back off the branch. Though he was in pain still, he had no doubt he could escape this monster, could bear himself to safety with his wind magics.

“Being a fool is no crime, little dragon. It is society’s responsibility to keep them from accumulating too much power, and it has clearly failed you. I had wanted to let you live, let you go safely on your way. But… threatening my world, my descendants?”

The dragon, knowing what was coming, launched himself backwards in a great gust of wind, ready to fly faster than anything this world had ever seen.

Only to find himself clutched by a dozen spindly limbs, pinning him in place like an insect on the branch. He couldn’t even move his tail, let alone fly away.

“There are few philosophers that would condone that, little dragon. Fewer still that would prescribe mercy for you.”

Oudho’s immense face drew close, and the dragon braced himself for the monster’s teeth— but the expected bite never came.

“Let us see, little fool, how long you survive in Limnus’ burning depths. I can’t imagine you will last long.”

And then, still clutched in the historian’s many arms, Xandrefax found himself plummeting towards the purple clouds below.