Fyre Fly: Chapter 46 – To Vanquish a Dragon

I have Ollie land on the nearest floating rock so we can take stock of our surroundings. It’s a wide, flat surface, at least a hundred meters across, overgrown with wild grass and speckled with trees. There’s also hints of crumbled buildings here; glimpses of white marble protruding from hills, like bones half buried in the ground. Ollie digs his claws into the edge of our platform and peers over the edge.

“Let’s take a moment to observe, first,” I say, scanning the land below. “Attiru said there was a flock of griffons where they set up their tracker. Let’s avoid that if possible.”

“And an amphiptere somewhere near the base,” Mirzayael adds.

“What’s an amphiptere?” Sandro asks.

“It’s like a dragon without legs,” I tell him. “Just two wings. Technically it would also satisfy your Role Requirement, and we will need to deal with it eventually, but it would probably be around Ollie’s size, so…”

Sandro gulps and quickly nods. “Let’s stick to the wyverns.”

“A DRAGON WITHOUT LEGS?” Ollie repeats. “OH MAN, THAT WOULD STINK! HOW WOULD YOU HOLD THINGS?”

“With your mouth?” Gardi suggests.

“EWWWW!” he cries, despite the fact I’ve seen him put things I would consider extremely foul in there already. “MAYBE I COULD USE MY TAIL.”

We’re getting off track. “Everyone, keep an eye out for wild animals. Call out whatever you see, no matter how big or small. I don’t want to be caught off guard.”

Mirzayael nods. “Let’s do a few laps down the cloud, as shallow as you're able. I want to descend slowly and carefully. We’ll land on another stone a third the way down and reassess from there. Sound good?”

Ollie wiggles in excitement. “I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL I CAN EXPLORE THIS PLACE. I HAD A SECRET HIDEOUT IN THE WOODS BEHIND MY HOUSE. I BET I CAN MAKE ONE HERE, TOO!” He glances back at us. “SORRY, ADULTS WON’T BE ALLOWED, THOUGH.”

At least I have Psionic Link and Psionic Senses if I need to find him. “Once Mirzayael deems the area safe, you can do as much exploring as you wish. Ready?”

“OKAY,” he says, tensing. “HERE WE GO!”

I hurried add, “Slowly this time—”

He spreads his wings and jumps. Mirzayael strangles her harness in a death grip, and Sandro’s cloak snaps around him in alarm. But a wind catches us before we have the opportunity to drop, and we glide smoothly downward. Ollie turns an eye back on us with a mental giggle.

We slowly leapfrog our way down the Drifting Isles, pausing regularly to watch for animals and document our surroundings. Attiru had provided us with a general map of the Ruins, but it had only gone about two-thirds the way up, along a single route, leaving a majority of the other floating pieces of land a mystery.

“Over there,” Salvia says abruptly, pointing to a large stretch of land. “See? In the trees.”

I squint until I finally make out an indistinct form among the leaves.

[Gryphon,] Echo reports, confirming my suspicion. [Native to west Dunmora and also found in the Drifting Isles, these predators hunt in packs and are highly territorial.]

“At least we know where to avoid,” I say. It sounds like they are going to be a pain to deal with, though.

We encounter other creatures on the way down, though none of these are dangerous, thankfully. A flock of silver birds scatter at Ollie’s approach, swirling up to a different level of the Ruins. A herd of jackalopes race across a field, sparking with electricity as they run—a good reminder that wind magic is only one subset of storm arcana. When we alight on another platform, a giant swarm of burnished beetles take flight, rising around us with a melodic hum like gemstones floating into the sky.

Sando nervously swats at the lazily drifting beetles, and Salvia rolls their eyes at him. “They’re just bugs.”

“They could be magic bugs!” he objects. “They could have venom! Or be carnivorous! Or electrocute us!”

Gardi plucks an emerald one from a nearby strap. It buzzes futilely in their grasp until they let it go. The bug hurriedly (but still rather lazily) flutters away. “I don’t think they’re dangerous.”

“IT’S SO PRETTY!” Ollie says, head craned up to watch the cloud of glittering bugs ascend to other less-dragon-filled chunks of land.

“And to think this will be our home,” Mirzayael says quietly, also watching the display. “After so many lifetimes in the dark.”

I can only try to imagine what that must feel like. My heart aches—both in sorrow for what they’ve endured, and in joy for the future they’ll have access to now.

I catch Gardi watching Mirzayael with a conflicted look on their face. They glance at Salvia next. I’d pay a pretty penny to know what they’re thinking.

Well, I could always lean over and touch them, but that would ruin the moment.

“What’s that?” Sandro cries, panic raising in his voice.

I consider activating a sphere of Emotional Radiance to calm him down, even though it might be a waste of my mana, but when I turn to follow his gaze, I realize there actually is something to be worried about.

I thick flock of creatures is racing from a lower level up toward us. Birds of prey, I think, each the size of a hawk. But when Echo checks them—

My heart leaps. “This is it!” I cry. “Ollie, stay put. Sandro, get unbuckled and grab your sword. It’s a flock of wyverns. Now’s your chance!”

I’m already undoing my own harness, and the others are as well. Not that we all need to be involved, but I’m sure everyone is ready to stretch their legs, and if one of us can catch a wyvern for him, we can get this whole ordeal over with.

Sandro shakily pulls himself to his feet, clutching his sword like a lifeline. Abruptly, I think it would be wise for all of us to put as much space between Sandro and ourselves as possible. The others also seem to have come to this conclusion, as Gardi has moved to the opposite end of the transport, Salvia has taken flight, and Mirzayael has crawled back along Ollie’s neck, narrowing her eyes at the swordsman. I also leap back, activating my Jets as I clear Ollie’s side.

Then the wyverns are upon us.

The lizards do really look like miniature dragons, largely green, brown, blue, and white, most some combination of the four. Their haphazard flight reminds me of a cloud of bats, fluttering every which way yet somehow managing not to run into each other. The wyverns snap up the beetles still slowly trying to escape, their wings stirring up gusts of wind that send the helpless bugs spiraling off course. The wyverns completely ignore us, as if they’re used to the presence of people, or at least don’t see us as a threat. And with their extreme speed and agility, hovering, flipping around, and darting through the air in a blur, I can understand why.

“It’s okay,” Sandro is saying, his voice tight as his eyes dart around the sky. “They won’t hurt us. It’s just a bunch of bugs and lizards. Don’t freak out. We got this. Don’t freak out!”

His cloak is quivering, the bottom hem jerking back and forth like a cat’s tail. One wyvern loops around Sandro, and he lets out a yelp, swinging his sword through the air. The slash isn’t even close, and the wyvern is gone before it likely even knew he was taking a swing at it. The cloak squeezes around his shoulders, restricting his arms.

“That’s not helpful!” Sandro cries. “That’s the opposite of helpful!”

Ollie laughs, looking over his shoulder. I’m about to gently admonish him for laughing at someone else’s struggles, before he says, “LOOK! THEY LIKE ME.”

Sure enough, many of the wyverns have landed on Ollie’s neck and tail to finish crunching down their snacks. “CAN I KEEP ONE?” he asks. “I COULD NAME IT PEANUTS THE SECOND.”

They really do seem harmless. One even lands on the front of Gardi’s shirt, its wings hanging onto the cloth as it finishes gobbling down its last bite of beetle and swings its head around for its next target. Gardi leans back, shaking the front of their shirt until it lets go and darts away. I should have asked them to grab it for Sandro, instead, but I probably would have had the same instinct in their shoes. Besides, I just don’t have the heart.

Sandro in the process of wrangling the cloak off his arms—this partially explains how ineffective his sneak attack on Ollie had been—when a wyvern lands on his head. Sandro shrieks, dropping his sword. He smacks a hand to the top of his head, and actually manages to land a hit. The wyvern screeches and flaps its wings, but the claw of one gets hooked in the curls of his hair. Sandro scrambles the wrench the creature away, getting a hold of its neck. He yanks it out, along with a tuft of hair, and then thrusts his arm as far away as he can manage, wide-eyed and panting.

I feel a mix of relief and regret at the sight. He’s done it—he’s caught a dragon. Now he’ll be able to satisfy his Role Requirement… once the poor creature is dead.

Sandro still has the wyvern by its neck, and the animal is thrashing wildly in his grasp. It flaps its wings and bites at his gauntlet with angry hisses, its tail flailing wildly. I grimace. I’m not sure I can watch this next part.

But Sandro doesn’t move to pick up his sword. He just continues to stare at the wyvern, eyes wide.

He looks at me. “She says my Role Requirement has been satisfied.”

“What?” I check his Sanity stat. Sure enough, it’s back to 100%.

Sandro lets go of the wyvern, and it delivers one last angry chirp, its tail whipping against his head as it flies away. Sandro looks stunned.

“How?” I say, hovering a bit higher so I can be over the transport when I cut my Jets. I fall into a crouch, wings flaring to help cushion the impact.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I thought I was supposed to kill it.”

“Thought?” I narrow my eyes. “Sandro, what is your Role Requirement?”

“To slay a—”

“Word for word,” I interrupt. “Exactly what Echo says.”

Sandro shrugs. “She says ‘The Dragon Slayer must vanquish a dragon.’”

“Vanquish?” I repeat. “It says vanquish?”

“Yes?” Sandro blinks in confusion.

Mirzayael and Salvia cautiously climb back into the saddle, looking very unsure.

I groan, rubbing a temple. I can’t believe he’s been giving me the wrong wording all this time. I’m briefly irritated, but it’s quickly overcome by relief.

Nothing has to die.

“Sandro, vanquish doesn’t mean ‘kill,’” I say, shaking my head.

Sandro leans back with a frown. “What? No. It says I’m a Dragon Slayer. I have to slay one.”

“And my role says I’m a Dark Lord,” I reply, laughing in relief. “The names don’t have to fit. Or perhaps we’re sort of being ham-fisted into something that only partially fits. But that’s irrelevant. It’s what Echo means with the description. Vanquish means to defeat. To subdue. To conquer. It doesn’t have to include death.”

“No way,” Sandro says. “But it’s always used for things like, to vanquish a foe.”

“That still doesn’t have to mean kill.” How could he have not known this? Then again, I hadn’t gone digging into the true meaning of my Role Requirement until it was too late. I suppose I shouldn’t be too hard on the kid.

“Ask Echo to define the word,” I tell Sandro.

His eyes unfocus for a moment. Then he slaps his hand against his face. “Oh my god.”

Now that I’m thinking about it, he hadn’t actually asked Echo to define what ‘dragon’ meant either, until I’d thought to do so. “You know, you really should try to use Echo more often.”

Sandro collapses back into his seat. “Sorry. I’ve been trying not to. She scares the Cloak.”

Ah. That does explain some things.

“Well,” I look around at the others. “All’s well that ends well, I suppose.”

“Then it’s resolved?” Mirzayael asks.

“It seems so.” I watch Sandro, who’s in the process of sheathing his sword. “As long as he captures a wyvern every couple of months, his Role Requirement will no longer be a problem.”

Gardi looks between all of us, faintly baffled. “Is this some sort of Fyrethian custom?”

Salvia lands beside them. “No. I’m equally confused.”

“It’s a curse,” Mirzayael says before I can even begin to think about how I’d explain everything. “Discretion is appreciated.”

Salvia bows her head. “Of course, My Lord.”

Gardi still just looks confused.

As the air starts to clear of both beetles and wyverns, Mirzayael gestures for everyone to return to their seats. “Get strapped back in. We’ve just the last few levels to go, then I am happy to call this scouting mission complete.”

As everyone gets secured, Mirzayael mentally nudges me. “I wish your Role Requirement could be fixed so easily.”

“Perhaps it will,” I think. “Moving the city within the Ruin’s ambient storm arcana will likely help. And finishing up those spell circuits should also be a significant contribution.”

“And if they aren’t?” Mirzayael asks as Ollie pushes off to glide down the last of the floating islands. “What could you do then that would begin to compare to providing the city with infinite power and developing shields capable of keeping out the gods?”

Those do sound like significant accomplishments to outshine. “Then I’ll be quite happy to remain in the city,” I tell her. “But let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

As we approach the floor of the Ruins—a green valley with a lake filled from a waterfall draining from layers above—we do indeed run into the amphiptere Attiru warned us about. It hisses, slithering from the clouds. Before I even have time to shout a warning, Ollie whips his head in its direction and lets loose a thunderous roar. The serpent, about half Ollie’s size, shrinks part way back into the clouds, uncertain. Ollie launches an Ice Beam at it next, and the amphiptere beats a hasty retreat, its tail briefly whipping through the mist as it flees.

“That was easy,” Mirzayael remarks. “Attiru made it sound like a bigger threat.”

“Without a dragon on our side, I suspect it would have been.” I glance around the valley as Ollie flaps his wings, slowing for the landing. “That was the biggest threat they were aware of. It might still be trouble for your guards to root out, but now at least we know where to find it.”

“A problem for another day,” Mirzayael agrees. “Unless there’s anything else we should take care of, I think we can start to head back.”

“I’M THIRSTY,” Ollie says.

I glance over at the lake and waterfall. “Do you suppose it’s potable?”

“For a dragon, maybe,” Mirzayael says, sounding dubious. “I doubt it’s salt water, but I wouldn’t drink it without running it through the dracid’s purification system first.”

“I’ll grab a sample of it, then,” I say. “It could affect where we want to settle the city.” I gesture for the others as I get unbuckled. “Might as well stretch your legs.”

Everyone dismounts, and Ollie bounds over to the lake, the rest of us trailing casually after.

“Where should we put the city?” Mirzayael muses, looking around the valley. It’s about five times the size of the Fortress, so there will be plenty of room to expand. The lake is off toward what I decide to call the north side, while the lowest hanging “stepping stones” of the Drifting Isles are roughly to the east. Along the south side is a field of exposed ruins.

“We could set down there,” I say, gesturing to the empty west section. “Though it might be better to have easier access to the stepping stones. We could settle between them and the lake, but then we’d be further from the ruins, if we wanted to investigate them.”

“We could always just land in the middle,” Mirzayael suggests. “Equal access to everything. We’ll just need to be mindful of land that we could use for agriculture…”

We continue to chat on our short walk to the lake. To my surprise, Salvia and Gardi and speaking, too. Sandro appears the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him, and he even smiles faintly as he cranes his head up at our surroundings.

Ollie leans down to take a drink, and just as his chin touches the water, the surface erupts in a geyser.