The Affairs of Dragons

[Arvælyn]

Phocion tilted his head and knitted his brow at Hilana's proverb. He wasn't sure it really applied in a scenario as literal as theirs, where they could actually get very lost and find themselves in danger, but beyond that her reasoning was sound enough. The dragons surely knew they were there by now, and if their little party was worthy, they would meet them by and by.

Without the light cast by Phocion's elemental-kinetic field, much of their trip would have been in pitch darkness. There were a few veins of illuminated dragonshards that appeared along the path. Phocion supposed the dragons wouldn't have been keen on having their realms mined, so they'd remained untouched all this time despite their obvious value.

The narrower path continued their downward slope, though this course curved a few times. The heat increased and decreased a few times as they travelled, so it was difficult to tell where they were in relation to the volcanic core. By and by the tunnel opened up into a wider chamber. The ceiling was lit by a large magmatyte vein that cast an orange-yellow glow down to illuminate what lay below.

"Here." Arvælyn rasped, and slipped out from under Hilana's arm to stagger further into the room where he could see this hall was bisected by a crimson stream flowing from a large opening to their right to another opening to their left. A large corridor was opposite them that stretched into blackness.

"It's cooler here." Phocion observed, and the light cast by his elemental-kinetic field dimmed as he reduced the flow of æther.

Arvælyn took a seat on the ground, criss-crossing his legs and staring across the blood red river to the large opening at the other side of the chamber.

"I... guess this is as good a time and place to rest as any." Phocion arched a brow, watching his half-blooded half-brother appraisingly. Particles of dust were shifting around him, like tiny satellites in orbit. It wasn't normal. Pebbles were beginning to react as well. Even without his keen æther sight, he'd have recognised it for a kinetic phenomenon.

As Phocion was about to take a seat himself, a sudden quake made him nearly lose his balance. A quick kinetic push righted him, but he needed to brace as the stone shook beneath his feet. After a few moments, the earthquake stopped and in the blackness of the opening on the other side of the chamber, two huge glowing eyes blinked into view. The black vertical slits of the pupils were rounded by a irises like twin blazing suns around which a red-orange churning, like magma, whirled.

The foundations shook as scales that glimmered gold and silver came into view under the glow of the magmatyte. The thunderous steps of the Atraxian Crownwyrm Zalkyriax brought the mighty dragon into the open.

Phocion's breath caught in his throat and he lowered himself on slender, shaky legs to kneel on one knee. He lowered his head in awe-struck deference. He had seen dragons before, but not at such close range and not when they were looking back at him. Arvælyn remained seated, smiling almost maniacally.

"Your lives are too brief to waste precious moments standing dumbstruck." The wyrm announced in booming Vastian, "State your names and your reasons for travelling to treat with the Rex Draconum."

"Your Exalted Majesty." Phocion began, his voice as shaky as his knees, "I am Phocion Princeps of the Phædryn branch of the Royal House of Sol'Aværys. I come before Your Exalted Majesty to safely conduct my half-brother, Phædryn Val'Aværyan Arvælyn and a courier from His Divine Radiance Aværys Imperator and Her Argent Luminescence Varvara Imperatrix." He gestured to Hilana and nodded, encouragingly for her to identify herself.

[Hilana Chenzira]

Though he knitted his brow at her words, the Vastiana offered him a small smile of encouragement. They would make it work, somehow, she was trying to reassure them. If the path was blocked, then they would just trace their steps and continue down the other. They would find their way back. And after that, they would keep going until they got back to the Umbrium. If there was danger beyond the dragons, they would see it through. Phocion and Arvaelyn were Princes, after all, and she had faith in them and even some in herself when it came to navigating. Through it all, Hilana had been keeping track of the way they had gone. The turns, the pacing, what she could see on the walls. The number of dragonshards in their veins were beautiful, especially with the way the faint light of Prince Phocion’s kinetic field refracted in their facets. There was a natural radiance to them, the way they were untouched. Hilana was also certain that if anyone tried, their lives would surely be forfeit. With the abundance of them down here, though, she was quietly glad that she had passed on those when she had considered them as tribute.

But as they made their way to the larger chamber, Arry’s reasoning had been proven correct. It could open to a wider area, and this pathway certainly did. Even though he freed himself from her, the girl was right on his tail, ready to grab him if he stumbled. She looked around the large room, her dark eyes darting around, drinking in the details. The titanium scroll case remained in her hand, as if she might expire on the spot if she so much as let it go until they found the recipient. With her friend sitting down on the ground, though, Hilana was reaching into her rucksack for the first of the waterskins for them since a brief break was essentially being declared. She could find out from the other brother how he felt too about the continuous channeling, and if he might want something for that—-

She had noticed the pebbles moving, but she certainly hadn’t been prepared for the earthquake beneath her feet. The girl lowered her centre of gravity, waterskins forgotten for the moment as she secured the rucksack and got it back into position on her back. When she saw the eyes, though, her own were huge, and her mouth opened in surprise, the words she had been about to say dying on her tongue. Dragon! A dragon! The Crownwyrm Himself in person! As soon as his snout came into view, Hilana sank down to her knees, kowtowing, though she managed to keep the sealed scroll case off of the ground, least it get so much as a scratch.

When the ancient Crownwyrm spoke, encouraging them to state their names and reasons for coming, Hilana righted herself, though she remained on her knees. The missive was held between both of her hands on her lap, only now daring to look up. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the sound felt so loud in her ears she had to focus on Phocion to hear him. But when he nodded at her, the girl swallowed. “Good morning, Your Exalted Majesty. My name is Matsi Chenzira Hilana. I was given this missive to bring to you on behalf of His Divine Radiance and Her Argent Luminescence.” She extended the sealed case upwards towards him , holding it in cupped in both hands.

Oh, glories… the scales, the horns, the spikes, his eyes… she had seen him in the skies last season. But that was nothing compared to seeing him up close. And as awesome as he was…as terrifying as he was… he was beautiful. The girl was transfixed, spellbound, but trying very hard not to stare.

[Arvælyn]

A rattling purr rumbled forth from the long throat of the dragon in response to their introductions, and he stomped forward toward the blood red rivulet that bisected the room. He reached the edge and paused, gazing across and spending a bit of time inspecting each of their faces starting with Phocion, then Hilana and finally Arvælyn. By this point, although he lagged behind the others in response time, he caught up enough to have pushed himself from his rump to his knees, lowering his eyes as soon as larger brighter golden orbs cast their gaze to meet them.

"Well met, Children of Re'ha and Vastium. Rise and approach." He settled back onto his haunches, sitting upright at the stony bank of the scarlet stream. Phocion rose from his knee and helped Arvælyn up from his two, though he felt as though he could have used a hand himself, for how unsteady he was on his feet in present company.

"Recently we sensed the re-emergence of our old comrades-in-arms. The world has lost much of late, and They are wont to derive power from the detriment of others. Yet it is strange... I do not feel their potency has grown to the point when they might yet liberate themselves. Their herald is come sooner than anticipated..." He trailed off, punctuating his musings with a low, rumbling purr. At Zalkyriax's age, surprises were few and far between. This accelerated timeline was a welcome one indeed.

"Stand forth, Daughter of Vastium, and present whatever news you harbinge on behalf of your Gods." He craned his neck forward across the blood red brook and regarded the human scrutinisingly. She was a curious choice to serve as Their holy herald, but They were doubtless altered after being isolated so far away for so, so long. It seemed that this new, impending age promised more in the way of surprises.

As Zalkyriax addressed Hilana, Phocion stood by with his hand at the small of Arvælyn's back, gaping openly at the majestic sight of the wyrm before him. Arvælyn smiled weekly, whispering-

"Is this an hallucination, brother?"

"If so, frater..." Phocion replied in a softer hush, "...you're contagious."

[Hilana Chenzira]

At the purr, Hilana was quietly delighted and weirdly relieved by it. Normally from cats, and tegus, the purr was a good sound. She was going to hope that it meant the same for His Exalted Majesty. When he bade them to rise and approach, Hilana rocked back easily from her knees to her toes, rising up, and she would assist Phocion with Arvaelyn, or himself, if needed. Nerves, energy, and excitement had her up and moving, her skirts swishing around her long legs, because the initial moment of freezing was past for now. They hadn’t been roasted, and that meant so far, so good. But the girl remembered the warnings of the Princess, and knew that she had to be on her best behaviour. Be not bold, be not familiar, be not presumptuous. She walked with them to the edge of the bank, one arm there to help support Arvaelyn.

The girl listened to the Crownwyrm, awe on her face, her head tipped up so that she could look at him. His words were further encouraging: that They were considered comrades-in-arms might be helpful with this, and the silver and gold dragon seemed to be in a decent mood thus far. Hilana, unlike her Elven companions, was much more in the dark about the current events that were proving so beneficial for her Gods, but she wasn’t about to question any of it. If anything, she was just trying to digest it and keep stupid questions to herself. Her father had told her on more than one occasion that it was better to be silent and thought a fool than open her mouth and remove all doubt... and he wasn’t wrong. Especially with the present company.

When he bade her to stand forth, Hilana bowed to him, sweeping out her skirts, before she straightened and extended the sealed scroll case up towards him with both hands. She sought to keep any extra flushing off of her cheeks when he was scrutinizing her, as her heart hammered in her ears again now at being so close. He was beyond massive. This was a living mountain of scale, horn, spike, and claw... “For you, Your Exalted Majesty,” she looked up at him, the lustrous titanium rather outshone by the ancient being before her. Some part of her desperately wanted to know what sort of treatment he used for his scales, because it worked... If she was Their Herald for today, that was as honorable a position as any. If Hilana was told to take something somewhere, it would get there.

If this was an illusion, it was a good one, and she could stand to stay in it for a while. But that she could not comment on, not right now, and chances are, she wouldn’t dare anyway, not in front of Prince Phocion.

[Arvælyn]

The fiery eyes shifted from the Vastiana to the scroll case in her hand. She would feel the tug of unseen forces drawing her precious cargo up and out of her hands to levitate out over the scarlet stream. Zalkyriax tilted his great head as he manipulated the æther in the air to open the case and remove the scroll therein, which glowed with golden radiance as it unfolded. The case tumbled into the red rivulet as the scroll shifted to assume the form of Aværys himself, albeit writ smaller than Hilana had seen him. No colossus, but an elf of normal perhaps even diminutive stature, but one who hovered before the dragon with His back to those on the other side of the stream.

Aværys spoke in a tongue unknown to any of the mortals present, but it was beautiful. It might have been ambient music composed to be housed in volcanic caverns and sung to dragons, and his voice seemed to harmonise with itself as he uttered those alien words. The dragon on the receiving end of this message was the only tell as to what it might impart, and he was not the easiest creature to read. His response was stoic and still, until one familiar word protruded, which brought his lip into a snarl: "Arcas".

The message continued for a while thereafter, and when it concluded, the divine elf disintegrated in a burst of stardust that floated down over the stream slowly, like glistening, golden snowflakes.

"The hour is nigh indeed..." Zalkyriax rumbled ominously. "But that is our concern, for the nonce." He snorted, and plumes of smoke rose from his nostrils.

"And it seems They would send you on a quest, girl. A relic was lost to us in Days of Yore when, at the Battle of the Rending. An agent of Raxen absconded with the item, but we sent our subject, the Black Dragon Israxa to retrieve it. We know that she pursued her quarry into Ecith, and we know that she was successful in this exploit. But we know not whither she brought the relic. In his wisdom..." And here Zalkyriax would turn his gaze to the two elven members of their party of three, "Phædryn Callidus bade her conceal its whereabouts even from his surviving siblings and from us, lest it be abused in the absence of the Founders." He glanced back to Hilana.

"Assemble a party of capable souls with steadfast hearts. Take time to prepare, and then go forth and locate Israxa and her treasure: The Zalkyrian Horn." His eyes softened as he looked to Arvælyn, who was absently causing some of the red liquid that composed the stream to float up in gravity-defying droplets like backward, rising rain.

"You, child, will remain here when the others depart. We cannot cure what ails you, but we can balm your symptoms."

[Hilana Chenzira]

Hilana released her hold on the case when she felt that the Crownwyrm had it, and certainly looked a bit dismayed when the titanium scroll case fell into the red liquid below. Discarded though it was, she would have liked to have kept it for a souvenir, to hide it amongst her belongings…but it was perhaps wiser that no such physical evidence went anywhere besides the bottom of that stream. She would just have to get three beads, or perhaps six, and hide them in her curls as a reminder. But she lowered her hands and clasped them before her, looking up solemnly.

The way the message was delivered had her head tilting. She couldn’t understand it, she had no way of understanding it, and at the same time, she wondered how to learn it. The harmony, the way it was spoken... well, sung, really... had Hilana marveling. The girl had never heard anything like it, but the notes... She would have to ask someone. Perhaps Prince Phocion or maybe even Princess Cithaera if he didn’t know... what sort of language that was. Was there some way to learn to speak it? She wasn’t so bold as to dare to ask the Crownwyrm, but at the same time... No. She absolutely would not ask that question of him right then, but if she ever had another opportunity...

She perked up, though, when Zalkyriax mentioned her quest, and she nodded in agreement. She had figured that he would give her her instructions when he was ready, and it seemed that such was now. And Ecith it was, apparently. And, of course, it was stolen by the Orcani. Well, an agent of Raxen, but since it is Ecith... then it was certainly a thieving Orcanus. Well, then they would just have to get it back, and Hilana had some ideas of who she could ask... but she also had a feeling that the Princess and Prince Phocion would also have some people that they could trust to come on this journey.

The Zalkyrian Horn. The Vastiana bowed low in assent. “I will, Your Exalted Majesty. I thank you.” She followed his glance back to Arvaelyn. “May I... may I ask if You know what is wrong with him? Is there something that we can get in order to get the cure for him?” She knew her questions were likely crossing lines, but she was worried for her friend. At the same time, she was curious to know exactly what was wrong with Arry. If something similar happened again... at least they could be prepared.

[Arvælyn]

"See that you advance in the practise of this nascent Rune before you embark upon the heart of this quest." Zalkyriax advised, "But for the nonce, your work will be more scholarly than expeditionary." After all, she would need to do research to even begin to know where to search. Ecith was a large continent, and the leads offered by the dragon were vague and few.

A booming grunt pursued Hilana's first question, before he replied:

"I know." And at the second query, he snorted smoke. "He cannot be cured. He can only endure. The circumstances are rare... perhaps even unique in all of history. If he is strong, the boons of his nature may well overpower the symptoms. If he is weak, he will go mad and become very dangerous to mortals. If that be the case, we will tend to him as mercifully as circumstances permit."

Zalkyriax shifted his gaze to the half-elf, who started as he felt pressure about his waist that lifted him from the stony ground and levitated him over the stream toward the dragon. He floated right up before the great, churning eye, his own widening as he registered the proximity. The Crownwyrm inspected the golden-haired youth before alighting him on the ground on the other side of the rivulet.

"Time is of the essence, if our palliative endeavour is to be effective. Go forth, Herald... This silver steward shall guide you safely through the heat." He said with a vague nod toward Phocion. "But you must work at equipping yourself for the fires in which we dwell, for you will come here again before you embark on the quest proper. When you are a friend to flame, return here for further instruction."

[Hilana Chenzira]

The girl nodded solemnly. All things considered, she hadn’t even gotten started on finding a book for this Rune, since she had intended to wait and see which ones her paedagogus wanted her to start with. The schedules were needed to align for her, her teacher-to-be, and her teacher’s cousin, unless she found someone else to get her started in the meantime. But if she was going to be rolling up her non-existent sleeves in a library, then she could surely start figuring out where to get textbooks on Elementalism and start at least reading to give herself a foundation in it. Who knew? Maybe the Prince that remained on this side of the stream would give her a task or two to get started.

Hilana listened as he confirmed that he did know, but didn’t name it, and said further that it couldn’t be cured. She bit her lips to keep herself silent, nodding again and not daring to look away since he was talking to her. But before she could give Arvaelyn a parting hug, he was levitated away, just as her scroll case had been, and it was all she could do to watch him go. She wondered if they would have to rock-paper-scissors when they got back on who would tell Princess Cithaera on why they had not brought Arvaelyn back with them, but she didn’t dare say it. “Yes, Your Exalted Majesty,” the Vastiana nodded, bowing once again before remembering the objects in her backpack. She was thrilled to know she would be coming back here, but she also knew she was going to have to get moving.

“I will get started,” she promised him, wide eyes on the Crownwyrm. On all of it. Learning about Israxa, the Horn, Elementalism… If she was going to be a friend to flame, she had a lot of work to do, and likely not the most amount of time to do it in. She stepped back away from the edge of the stream, and removed her rucksack, crouching down and opening it. “I… I brought something as tribute, Your Exalted Majesty. For You and Their Hallowed Highnesses.” From the rucksack, the girl withdrew five large chunks of fire agate, each of them polished and cut into the shapes of faceted eggs. Each of them required both of her hands to hold, and they were laid on their pouches before her in a row, facing the ancient dragon. Each of the agates were of similar size, but the colours, patterns, and designs within them varied. Some were darker, some were lighter, as the range of hues that each contained were different. In two of them, the gold-like veins were more pronounced, in the others the bulging, bubble-like kaleidoscopic prisms took precedence. Under the light of the magmatyte overhead, the colours were even more resplendent. Hilana hoped that they pleased the head of the Zalkyrian Dynasty as she rose to her feet and stepped back, putting her backpack, now much lighter, back into place.

[Arvælyn]

"Gratias, Exalted Majesty." Phocion bowed as low as balance permitted on unsteady legs, and the dragon grunted acknowledgement to both of their addresses. He lifted the young half-elf again with his mastery over the surrounding æther, and drew him to rest upon the spot where his neck met his back. It was good Arvælyn had been a dancer in another life, and flexible enough for his legs to straddle to broad a base. The quake of weighty steps shook the earth as the dragon began to turn, before his long neck craned around to regard Hilana quizzically as she spoke on. His eyes lowered lazily to regard the offering, before scanning back up to meet the Vastiana's eyes.

"Mm." Something deep and low, perhaps a growl or perhaps a purr rattled the chamber as it pulsed from Zalkyriax's chest. "Into the stream with them. Such is the place for tributes." He nodded toward the blood red rivulet, before turning back to face the egress toward which he lumbered with Arvælyn bouncing lightly on his back. The golden boy cast a glance over his shoulder to the Herald and her 'Silver Steward' and raised his hand to wave, but only briefly before deciding he needed to hold on to his present mount. This certainly hadn't been what he'd imagined when he envisioned riding a dragon, but far be it from him to complain.

Phocion remained in his bow until the Crownwyrm was out of sight and the thunder of his steps had receded into the corridor beyond. When things were relatively silent, he unbent his back and turned to Hilana.

"For a matter concerning both gods and dragons, I can confidently say that the resources of the Vigilia Argenti are at your disposal in preparing for this quest." Straight to business as ever was Phocion. "Our archives, our pædagogi, our personnel. May I ask, Miss Chenzira... what was your occupation before the High Sentinel took note of you?" These were grandiose affairs and it was rare for someone to come to such prominence so suddenly without having already garnered the attention of the sentinels. Although, as much as he grudged her for it, Cithæra was wont to keep her secrets. Arvælyn was not the least of those, and only prior to this mission in the Thalamum Draconum did she bother to elaborate upon key points in his backstory that began to explain her reticence. Whatever the case, he didn't exactly relish the role of 'Silver Steward', but he was used to it. Perhaps it was fitting. He was after all, the chosen and first to be Marked by Mother Midnight in living memory. It was meet that he should serve in the shadow of others.

[Hilana Chenzira]

While he had looked back at her, the girl was solemn and she was earnest. “Of course, Your Exalted Majesty,” Hilana nodded at his words, bowing to him and watching his departure. Though Phocion had remained bent, Hilana straightened sooner, though she wondered if it was impolite of her to do so. She was somehow surprised; as she had always heard stories of dragons having hoards. But maybe the stream led to something or someplace else; she had no way of knowing. It was not for her to guess; it was for her to follow. Still, when Arvaelyn raised his hand, Hilana raised hers, waving at him. “Be strong, Arvaelyn. Remember who you are, and make sure you come back to us. We believe in you!” she waved to her friend until he was out of sight. It may not have been proper to speak so freely with such familiarity to a Prince of the realm, especially in the presence of those that she was with, but she wanted him to know she was cheering for him. That she had faith in him that he could get through whatever malady that was affecting him. She settled on her knees, reaching to lift each of the large fire agate eggs and lower them into the red stream. One by one, each of the heavy stones sank, likely joining the titanium scroll case. Perhaps that was why it had gone into the stream... tribute. Keeping that in mind, Hilana felt much better about the fact that it had been lost.

The cloths and pouches were gathered back up, bundled upon themselves, and they went back into her rucksack. She pulled out one of the waterskins, offering it to the Prince, along with a pouch of candied, spiced almonds. Now that they were alone, they may as well take a moment to recover before heading back out. While she was steady on her legs, he seemed a bit shakier, and she wasn’t sure if that might have also been part of the fact he was expending his aether for them. There was much to ruminate on, and Hilana was working to commit as much of it to memory as possible. Furthermore, the Crownwyrm had mentioned Arcas, and his look had been none-too-impressed with their ancient enemy. She had to wonder what was going on there; but she also had to trust that she was only one piece of the puzzle. Did anyone have all of the pieces to fit together? Maybe the Founders did. And of the mortals... perhaps Princess Cithaera.

She listened, her eyes searching the face of the Moonborn Prince, and she bowed to him. “I thank you, Your Highness. I am honoured to take you up on them, because I wasn’t sure what library would have been the right one to start with,” Hilana admitted. This suggested she certainly wasn’t a native to the Sacred City, at least. His question did and didn’t surprise her. Phocion was the one that Raithen had told her to find a month prior if everything had gone poorly in Vectria, and at the ball, she had learned that the two of them were brothers. Well, half-brothers, at least. And now Arvaelyn was actually related to both of them through their mother; though Hilana was not familiar with the peculiarities from there. But at the end of the day, the Prince was far too important to be bothered with the likes of one such as her. She tried to decide how much information was too much information, and decided he would cut her off or ignore what he didn’t want to hear. “I work at Sweet Remedies in Port Vasta. I am a botanist, a doctor, an herbalist... and I am working on mastering poisons as well while trying to learn alchemy on the side,” she explained. “Beyond that... I am something of a guide for the Expanse.” She was the nomad girl that Finn, Arvaelyn, and Raithen had befriended.

“How are your aether reserves holding, Your Highness? Do you feel any need for replenishment?” She wasn’t trying to offend him by suggesting that he was not capable of a great deal of strength and power; she was just trying to be helpful. Hilana honestly didn't know how much aether it was taking to cast the shield that he was maintaining for them, and while she could not help with it... she could at least provide something if he was feeling any effects from it.