Holt raised his hands, feeling the power inside him twitch. Heat and white light flecked with purple began to gather around his palms. But it was Ash who struggled to contain the energy.
The dragon, tossed his head, almost fighting to control the power gathering at speed at his own mouth. Ash closed his mouth but only held it for a moment, until the magic seemed to force his jaws open again. Holt looked across their bond and saw the countless new motes racing toward Ash’s core, clashing into one another and shaking like frothing rapids on a river.
“Easy does it,” Brode said. He approached Ash as he might a rabid dog. “The swell in motes can be hard to manage the first time. Just don’t—”
Too late. Ash twisted, faced away from them all and blasted his beam- like breath into the night. The beam had enough power behind it to cause Ash to stagger backwards.
Holt found that strange. Raw motes alone should not have had that effect.
The beam of light illuminated the forest briefly before slamming into a tree, breaking the trunk clean through with a terrible crack. Then all went dark. And quiet. And just as Holt thought it was over, creaking rose like a rusted door being thrown open. Leaves rustled, breaking branches filled the night and finally came the thundering crash as the tree collapsed into the undergrowth.
“Wow,” Holt said. He struggled for his next breath. Tentatively, he checked upon Ash’s core. The sudden swell of motes seemed to have
entirely dissipated. Ash’s core blinked dimly, seeming to be half full compared to a moment ago. So, the beam had not been entirely comprised of raw magic then. In his struggle to control the power, Ash had pulled upon magic from his core, or perhaps it had overflowed.
Ash swayed upon his four legs but remained standing.
“Steady,” Brode said, placing a firm hand on Ash’s side. “You’ll get used to handling spikes in power like that.”
Holt went to his dragon’s side too. “How you feeling?”
Ash, swayed again, then all at once he seemed to regain his composure, and swept his tail excitedly through the leaves on the forest floor.
“We shall become mighty!” Ash said gleefully.
A spark of warmth passed between them over the bond. Holt was delighted Ash had found his meat preference. But it was venison. An unknown preference. What did it mean?
“I know I’m not a rider nor in the Order,” Holt said, “but this must confirm Ash is a new magic type rather than a mystic.”
Both Talia and Brode nodded, though neither had anything more to add.
They were as lost as he was.
“Venison…” Holt said aloud. Something twigged in his mind. He and his father rarely prepared the meat, but they had when Silas Silverstrike visited the Crag. They had made it because Silas came from the Free City of Coedhen in the Fae Forest and Commander Denna had wanted to serve him a dish from his homeland. And the recipe for that dish…
With haste he made for his pack and pulled out the recipe book. The gold embossed dragon flying over a steaming pot was luminous in the firelight.
Holt had opened the book to study the recipe so much that he found the venison stew quickly. Grimacing at the thought of revering Silas, he began flicking back towards the main title page covering this part of the book.
Each meat had its own section, with lamb being the largest given the varied needs of the mystics. This section on venison was small indeed. Only a handful of recipes were here in total and all of them were simple. Once he reached the title page, he found the heading ‘Deer’ in bold flowing script with an inked silhouette of stag horns beside it. He smiled briefly at the skill of his ancestors, even if the paragraph below was written in scratchy handwriting. He scanned the text eagerly for some clue or insight.
While deer meat is the preference of no dragon type, a few recipes are worth knowing in case other meats are in short supply. Even mystics will eat it in a pinch which is especially useful at times.
Underneath this were lines written by another hand. This writing was much neater and easier to understand.
Deer is a growing delicacy in the Free City of Coedhen and the surrounding territories. Despite large herds living in the Fae Forest, it is considered a rare dish. A merchant from Coedhen explained how the deer in that forest are craftier than elsewhere, moving at night as the moon waxes and wanes. During the full moon, huntsmen state that the deer travel solely at night and the quality of meat is reputed to be superior if a beast is felled at this time.
Holt lowered the book and looked to the sky as though his answer would be written in the stars. Only a dirty gray light greeted him, all that could penetrate the dense canopy of the Withering Wood.
Feeling Brode and Talia watching him he said, “It’s the moon.” “The moon?” Talia said.
“Ash’s powers are linked to the moon.” “And you got that from your cookbook?”
He glanced down to the barely filled page again. “There is something here about deer being affected by the moon. Not many recipes though…” He trailed off, thinking of the lack of knowledge and the blank pages that could be filled now Ash was in the world.
It just felt right. Moonlight and starlight were types of light after all.
And Ash was always the most animated of the group after sundown.
“I do like nighttime,” Ash said.
Holt put the recipe book away and went to the dragon’s side. He thought about scratching Ash under the chin, but the dragon’s size made that prospect seem rather silly now. He settled for patting his neck instead.
“A lunar drake,” Holt said. “Guess I should call Shock, Lunar Shock instead. I wonder what my next abilities will be?” The thought excited him. Maybe he would be able to melt the scourge in a huge beam of moonlight.
Although why a lunar drake would have the abilities to counter the blight was still a mystery.
He said as much to the others.
“I don’t think they have a direct weakness to moon or starlight,” Brode said. “The bugs are perfectly happy to move and strike at night. If anything, they prefer the night.”
“And yet Ash’s breath was able to sear a hole through a massive flayer.” “With its armor cracked open,” Brode said. “And using all of his core in one attack. But yes, he hit hard. Far harder than a fire drake at his age could
hope to.”
“Fire being effective against the scourge at least makes sense,” Talia said. “If the blight is a disease and fire cleanses.”
Pyra widened her eyes at that and the campfire blossomed. Doubtless she was absorbing many extra fire motes, giving Talia ample Forging work. Then Holt was struck by how much sense the brightness of Ash’s core made. He had only been Cleansing at night given they were moving by day, but this would be exactly when more lunar motes would pass through the orbit of Ash’s core.
“If I’m right,” he announced, “there is surely an easy way to test it. Pyra sits by the fire to absorb extra fire motes. If Ash sat under direct moonlight, and more motes enter the orbit of his core, we’ll know for sure.” He looked up to the dense leaves which sheltered them. “We need to climb above the trees.”
“We should fly!” Ash said, bouncing merrily around the fire. Talia nodded. “It would be the quickest way to test.”
Brode grumbled. “And if you alert the whole forest to our presence?” Ash came to a halt and drooped his head.
“What if Ash just climbed a tree and poked his head through the leaves?” Holt said. He twisted this way and that, looking for a big enough trunk for Ash to leap upon.
“He’s a dragon, not a squirrel,” said Brode. “Come here. You might as well start getting used to sense-sharing if this is how you will fly.”
Holt smiled but inwardly groaned. Another thing he had to master? It was becoming a lot to take in.
“I’m not even sure how we did it before,” Holt said. “It just sort of happened.”
“You just happened to pull on Ash’s core the first time too,” Brode said. “Now you can do that near enough at will, can’t you?”
Holt nodded.
Brode smirked. “Lucky for you, this process can be aided by a simple set of words. You do not need to say the words for the connection to take hold, although it helps to trigger the sense-sharing that much easier. In time, you may not need to rely upon the words at all.” He gestured for the pair of them to come closer. “Now be aware, the sensation will feel disconcerting at first. I only ever tried it a handful of times with Erdra and found it bizarre to say the least.”
“Why?” Holt said, approaching Brode alongside Ash.
“Blending senses is a messy business,” said Brode. “The rider’s increase a little but the dragon’s decrease in sensitivity as they even out. Its only practical value is when the rider is in need of a boost to their hearing or eyesight while at a distance from their dragon, though it is a rare thing for a rider and dragon to be so far apart, let alone for a rider to be doing delicate espionage work.”
“As long as we can fly, what’s the problem?”
“The issue is that it does put a strain on the bond – it’s only possible because of your connection, after all. Now while you’re close together, as close as flying, for instance, it should be negligible. But it will add up over prolonged use. You won’t be able to fly indefinitely without rests, and should you stray too far from each other while sense-sharing, the bond will be placed under great strain to maintain the connection.”
Holt nodded, eager to get on with it. Nothing Brode said gave him pause. So they had to stop and take rest, fine. A small price to pay so that they could fly. And he did not foresee a time when they would sense-share other than for flying.
“I understand, Master Brode. What is this technique?”
Rather than tell them, Brode drew his broad green blade and drove it into the earth near their campfire. “The words,” he said, “are only an aid, remember. What you must ensure above all is the deliberate melding of your senses to one. Try to focus on the same things around you. The smell of smoke from our fire, focus on that.”
Holt did. After a moment or two of really concentrating on smelling the burning wood, other smells seemed to fade away. It was much like when he pushed all things aside to Forge or Cleanse. Ash must have succeeded too,
for a whiff of that smoke traveled across their bond only deeper. Holt could really smell the wood and the earth trapped within the smoke when he tapped into Ash’s sense of it.
“I think it’s working,” Holt said quietly.
“Good,” Brode said, just as softly. “Now, try focusing other senses. I’m not sure if sight will work for you, although Ash can see in his own way.” He tapped the hilt of his rider’s blade which he had planted into the earth. Holt heard the soft touch in his own ears but, as though on a slight delay, he heard an echo of it over the bond too. To Ash, that soft touch sounded loud as though Brode had slapped the metal.
Ash gently padded to stand before the blade and pressed his snout against it.
“Clever thing,” Brode said. “Now step back, and both of you, look upon the blade as you can.”
Holt gazed upon Brode’s green sword, while still trying to hold onto the smell of smoke alone. He held it for so long and so intently that in his own mind’s eye he thought he began to ‘see’ the sword in the ground as Ash did. A solid, ringing surface standing amidst open nothingness and the softer, taller person right beside it.
Truly it was a strange sensation.
Brode allowed them a time to adjust to this then spoke again, almost a whisper so as not to break their concentration. “And now the words. Speak these as you begin to focus. And both rider and dragon must say their part. Either one of you may start it by saying ‘my eyes for your eyes’.”
Holt spoke the first line. “My eyes for your eyes.”
At once he felt the connection with Ash strengthen. For a moment he heard distant sounds as though they were nearby, and then they were gone.
Brode continued. “Your skin for my skin – and actual touch will go a long way if you can manage.”
“Your skin for my skin,” Ash said, lifting a wing and wrapping it around Holt’s shoulder. Without taking his gaze from Brode’s sword, Holt raised a hand and touched the tough, warm hide of Ash’s chest.
“And then together,” Brode said. “My world for your world.” “My world for your world,” Holt and Ash said together.
The effect was immediate and powerful. Holt’s senses expanded; distant snapping branches cracked loudly, smoke bloomed inside his nose, the heat of the campfire baked one cheek while the other cheek caught the chill of
the cold night air. Feeling it was safe to look at something other than the green blade now, Holt lifted his eyes to look upon Brode’s face. Every small line appeared like a crevice on his old face; and for the first time he saw the true depths of his sad eyes.
“The elder one is different than how I imagined him,” Ash said. He rumbled low in his throat.
“What’s wrong?” Holt asked.
“I wish I could see you this way.”
Holt’s stomach knotted and he gave Ash a hug. “Nothing a mirror can’t solve one day.”
“I take it it’s working then?” Brode asked. “How does the bond feel?”
Holt considered it. “Taut. As though we’re both pulling on the end of a rope.”
“Mm,” Brode growled. “As I say, just be mindful of how long you hold the connection for. Now, up you go. Let’s see if your theory is right, Master Cook.”
Holt climbed onto Ash, settling between two of the ever-growing ridges on the dragon’s back.
“Look up for me,” Ash said.
“Oh right,” Holt said, feeling foolish. Currently he was looking straight ahead into the darkness between the trees. And what he saw, Ash saw. This would take some getting used to if flying were to become a reality.
“Quick about it,” Brode said. “No lingering.”
Holt craned his neck, showing Ash a lighter parting in the canopy. The dragon took off, breaking branches as they broke free into the night. At first nothing happened. Holt’s heart sunk, thinking he had got it all wrong about the deer and the lunar drake. And then the wispy strands of cloud passed and the moon shone down upon them.
Ash’s core glowed.
Holt watched as fresh lunar motes flew in like shooting stars into the navy nothingness in which the core floated. Some motes stayed; some flew past altogether without being brought into the core’s orbit. Most importantly, Holt’s theory was correct.
Ash was a lunar dragon.
“It’s beautiful,” Ash said.
“It really is.” He had said it telepathically without considering it. He tried to do it again consciously but found it much harder, forcing out each
word. “Can you sense any scourge out there? Are we in danger?”
“Nothing more so than on the ground. Their stink is all over, their presence a constant low burn. And yet there is something or somethings out there… bursts of power in a flat land… gone as quick as they come.”
It appeared only senses for the physical world were shared via this connection for Holt did not gain an impression of these things. He cast out his own fledgling magical senses. Only the heat of Pyra and Talia below stood out to him. Beyond all else was desolate to him. Dragons must have a wider read than riders.
Just then, Pyra’s unmistakable presence entered his mind. “Be careful of how you reach out to others, little one. A gentle touch is more polite. Master Brode also says to return at once.”
Holt gulped. So did Ash. He was glad to have Pyra on their side, that was for sure.
They descended as best they could, only whacking themselves a few times on their way to the ground. Brode and Talia were deep in conversation by the fireside.
As ever, letting go of the strong connection to Ash was easier than creating it. He did so and his world returned to normal.
“He’s a lunar dragon for sure,” he said, getting down from Ash’s back. Brode gave him a weak smile and beckoned him closer.
Holt cast around their clearing as though expecting scourge to leap out from between the trees. “What’s the matter? Ash said he felt something—”
“Pyra felt it too,” Talia said. “As did I. Something is out there, only we can’t get a grip on it.”
“Likely some strong bugs,” Brode said. “We can’t expect to go unmolested. Sit and Forge, Holt. We’ll need every drop of that lunar magic you can cultivate for us. Talia and Pyra will keep watch for the enemy.”
Holt began at once, though it took him a long time to truly concentrate on the task at hand. He wanted to fight, to do his bit against the scourge, but more and more was he aware of how frail he and Ash were. What if they were attacked tonight or tomorrow? Every mote Forged would count at this point.
They had to get stronger. Faster than anyone had before them. Brode had given them all the tools. Now it was down to Holt. They had to ascend.
