Dragon Core Page 4

  “Have you decided what you wish to do to him yet?” Fei asked, curious.

  “Not yet.”

  Now, a mere two miles from the north-western battleship, Alron could make out the details. All four hundred feet of the ship were plated with blackmetal. Three rows of massive oars the size of a whale’s fins propelled it. Atop its deck, where the hills of rust-painted bunkers climbed the highest, thickets of chimneys spewed black fumes and coughs of fire. He could even make out the pipes of artillery poking through the bunkers’ embrasures, which consequently meant they’d entered within firing range.

  The gunnery embankment of the closest battleships sparkled. Smaller cannons barked shells at a rapid rhythm, while scores of wyrmkin warriors atop open bunkers spewed out swarms of dragonfire missiles.

  “Pathetic, pathetic. Pathetic! Are those smoke puffing hatchlings the best the navy has to offer?” Fei muttered.

  “Do not underestimate them. We are not at full strength.” Alron dragonized his arm-wraps and the rest of his old tattered clothes, wreathing himself in an armor of scales.

  “Wrap me,” he said.

  Fei climbed onto Alron’s shoulders and face, spreading a coat of Living Flame over him.

  Alron pulled his wings in and ducked. A concentration of winged black darts the size of his arm whistled overhead. He rolled out with his wings in a spiral, spinning through a swarm of blackmetal projectiles, then spread his wings to re-balance, and channeled all momentum into a sharp ascension to avoid birds made of white lightning, howling arrows of ice, and winged serpents of dragonfire.

  After he’d evaded them, the flock of dragonfire missiles and blackmetal darts turned around and flew after him.

  Suddenly, the air in front of Alron exploded in a storm of smoke and metal. Shards of the fragmentation shells whipped past him, scratching his scales. An unyielding concert of cannons roared, pipes smoking hot to maintain the wall of explosions between him and the battleships.

  On the other side of the shard curtain, over a hundred winged warriors and beasts perched on the battleships’ roosts, waiting to engage him. They taunted him to brave the wall of explosions. The missiles could not be evaded forever, and more were launched every second.

  How many of these warriors had once fought by his side. Was all of the Ascendancy truly aboard with his betrayal? Gritting his jaw, Alron set the thought aside.

  He continued gaining altitude. Missiles followed, the fastest of them less than a hundred feet away, and closing in fast. A shell exploded closer than he expected, and Alron lifted arms up to cover his face. Shards chimed off of his hardened scales. Fei cried out.

  “Fei?” Alron shouted, startled. She should be immune to physical attacks as a Living Flame.

  A grimace was drawn on her burning features. Fei threw down a gleaming piece of dark iridescent metal. Pale smoke spilled from her shoulder. “Starsteel? In ammunition? Is the Ascendancy made of jadegold now?” she cursed.

  “They must’ve powdered it and mixed in the shells,” Alron said. Although, even then it was an outrageous waste of such precious metal.

  Outrageous, and worrying. Starsteel wounded flesh, vis, vestiges, and dragonsoul equally. Even Alron could not ignore the threat it posed.

  At the same time, he felt relief. The Ascendancy was doing its best to kill him. They truly did wish him dead, and had prepared for this battle specifically. Alron could fight them without reservations, and murder without hesitation.

  “Fei, how long can you maintain the mirage veil?” Alron asked, dodging missiles with a sharp maneuver.

  A group of dragonfire snakes flew past him. Alron reached into the swarm, wrapping his claw around the tail-end of a blackmetal dart, which he quickly snatched from the flock. Not quite quick enough to avoid everything. Several birds of dragonfire splattered on Fei, though her soulfire weakened them enough for Alron to barely feel a zing on his wing. The rest of the flock flew past, and began to turn and dive after him.

  “Not long if you keep on doing that!” Fei shouted, clinging to his neck as Alron dropped into a downward plunge.

  “I had to turn around. How long?”

  “The missiles gave me enough vis, but I’m losing it fast with this wound… Five minutes, at most.”

  “Good enough.”

  Waves below grew in detail again, approaching rapidly. A swarm of missiles and animated dragonfire rose to meet their dive, whilst another group of missiles trailed behind them, all while a wall of explosives blocked them from approaching the battleship. The rest of the ships were miles off from joining the battle, but would soon catch up. If they did, Alron suspected they would try to trap him in a column of starsteel fragmentations, while throwing missiles from above and below. That much might kill him.

  “I applaud your effort, Commodore Lenjora,” Alron said, mainly to himself.

  He poured the full might of his dragonsoul into the missile attempting to escape his grip, overwhelming the reservoir of vis-charged dragonfire within. Blackmetal turned scarlet. The missile’s pointy tip opened into a shark-like snout, with burning blue eyes.

  Seconds before the two swarms squished Alron and Fei in an explosive collision, he threw the dragonized missile downward.

  With a bang of metal, it and another missile collided. A cloud of smoke engulfed Alron.

  Fei’s cloak of flames began to lose its blue hue, seemingly consuming Alron without as much as a speck of ash, as she covered them in a mirage. Invisible, they dove through an opening in the swarm created by the dragonized missile.

  The two swarms collided in a cascade of deafening booms and cracks, as if twenty thunderstorms had been compressed into a single cloud. Shrapnel and smoke spilled from the explosions. Alron slowed his fall to match the rain of debris, and pinched his nose, just before he splashed through the tall, dark waves.

  Blessed silence enveloped him. Cold water washed off sweat and grime. Above, the waves crashed violently, distorting the dwindling explosions. Alron kicked his feet and wings, and swam towards where he’d last seen the battleship.

  Compared to flight, diving was tedious. Minutes crawled. Veiled by Fei, Alron couldn’t see himself, nor her. Above sparkled a hint of light from the fresh morning. Beneath gaped the unreachable Deepfathom Abyss, like an impossibly wide black maw. Alron felt like a disembodied soul floating through the eternal slumber. It was relaxing.

  He now had the advantage over the battleship. Normally, he could never catch a dragonfire powered boat by swimming. Not if they knew he was coming. Now, all they could do was sit in their boat of metal, and wait. And die. If the Ascendancy had swallowed its pride and employed the deepkin in this assault, they would’ve secured an easy victory. A ridiculous thought. Ascendancy showing humility? Hah.

  After roughly four minutes of paddling water, the black underbelly of a battleship loomed on the surface above. Oars rested underwater. Islets of barnacles and algae coated their metallic surface.

  Then, without a warning, the bond between Alron’s and Fei’s dragonsouls cracked.

  The flow of her flames sputtered, and, for a moment, the veil flickered to a bright azure fire. Fei tapped his neck in distress. Something had gone wrong.

  Alron felt foreign presences of enemy oracles brush his dragonsoul. A moment later, the battleship rowed away from him.

  He had seconds before artillery and missiles rained down upon them. Out of options, Alron was forced to trust in nothing but his greatest strength—his physical might.

  Kicking water with his wings and feet, he breached the surface before the battleship could adjust its course. Frantic shouts from its deck replaced the lull of underwater. Metal rumbled as cannons corrected their aim. Wyrmkin on the deck hurried to hurl bolts and beams of dragonfire in his direction. Flying warriors and beasts took flight. The silhouette of their swarm blotted out the sun.

  “Alron, I’m sorry I—”

  Alron yanked Fei from his shoulder, clutching her flaming body against his chest, while accelerating towards th
e battleship. “Don’t risk a wound from starsteel. Stay within my wings.”

  Two cannons had time to fire fragmentation shells at them. Both exploded too late, booming behind Alron. A barrage of unguided dragonfire and hastily conjured missiles rained on them in a fiery blanket. Alron raised his arms, intending to simply endure the fire, but Fei escaped his embrace and blew a wave of soulfire in front of them, which drained the strength from the attacks. Weakened bits of dragonfire sputtered against his scales.

  Alron grunted. The fracture between their dragonsouls deepened, destabilizing the flow of vis between them, and damaging the core of soulfire in his lungs.

  “I won’t sit and watch. Use me, even if it kills me, you have to use me! I didn’t come here to be your burden!” Fei shouted, frustrated. There was no arguing with her, not now.

  “Then coat my arms. Reserve your strength.”

  She obeyed, and flames wrapped over his forearms and claws.

  Seven skysnakes—sixty feet long pale feathered serpents flying with streamlined undulating flaps running their length—lunged at Alron. Lightning crackled around their lance-like horns. Alron caught the first two by those horns. Soulfire suppressed their vis-powered lightning. Alron spun around in the air, and wielded a skysnake’s body as a whip against its brethren. Instead of finishing them off, he held onto the other skysnake and rushed for the battleship.

  A squad of winged wyrmkin blocked him. Some had webbed wings, others scaled, feathered, or thin and insectlike, or like Alron’s. Yet, they all wore suits of blackmetal and the red-blue colors of the Ascendancy’s navy.

  “Don’t let him pass!” barked a gold-winged man, from atop a large blue-scaled falcon.

  Twenty wyrmkin warriors trained lances of blackmetal on Alron. Alron slapped them with his remaining skysnake. With an ear-piercing howl, the snake was pierced, blue blood and guts spilling out. The snake died. Alron required a better weapon.

  Without a pause, he flew through the scrambled warriors and went straight for the commander, tackling him from his falcon. Alron clenched his fiery claws around the man’s helmet, and squeezed. Blackmetal creaked. Alron squeezed harder. It gave in. A skull broke with a sloshy crunch. Alron discarded the corpse, skidding to a halt on the slimy wooden deck of the ship’s rear-tower.

  Thirty-something wyrmkin on deck froze on their feet. Half-finished missiles of dragonfire sputtered in their hands. A boy dropped his blackmetal dart on the floor. Before they could draw a sword, or retreat into the bunkers, or as much as scream for help, Alron dashed through them.

  Slick warmth of blood coated his tense blade-like wings, as their razor edge sliced light armor, flesh, and bone.

  The winged warriors hurried to defend their ship, but Alron wasn’t about to waste time with them. He stepped into a narrow metal tunnel illuminated by flickering white dots—bottles of captured dragonfire. Once inside the battleship, he dragonized the door and its hinges, jamming it in its frame.

  “Why are we here and not at the command bridge?” Fei asked.

  “We’ll destroy this one. A show of power will dissuade the others from pursuing us. How is your wound?” he asked, treading deeper, scanning corridors for signs pointing towards the dynamo room.

  Fei released parts of her Living Flame transformation, clenching her fleshy fists. “It wasn’t just the starsteel. It’s just… It’s been a long week. My vestiges burn and I can hardly keep my dragonsoul in check. I’m… I’m sorry, Alron. I’m not quite how I used to be.”

  Footsteps and shouts echoed on the right-side of a T-crossing before them.

  “Fret not. I’ve more than a little rust to shed off my scales as well,” Alron said, and tore a pipe from the wall. He dragonized it, transforming the pipe into a crude scarlet spear. When he rounded a corner, Alron threw it at warriors rushing them. The spear pierced six through their abdomens, and nailed their bodies to the wall. The single lucky survivor collapsed on his knees, trembling as he stared wide-eyed at his dying comrades.

  Alron pried another pipe free and threw it through the man’s skull. He then opened a door titled ‘Dynamo Room’, and began to descend the spiral staircase behind it.

  “Liar,” Fei scoffed. “You’re as mighty as you ever were, perhaps mightier.”

  Alron gave her a look of sympathy. “Fei. Draw what power you can. Tomorrow, the day after, or once you’ve rested, we’ll begin strengthening our bond, and regain our strength. Do not strain yourself today.”

  “I won’t slow you down,” she said.

  “I know.” Alron only hoped she wouldn’t kill herself in doing so.

  At the bottom of the staircase, Alron kicked open the heavy vault door of the dynamo room. Sweltering heat and sulphuric smoke choked the enormous hall, which housed enormous furnaces, haphazardly criss-crossing forests of pipes, and loudly spinning metal cylinders the size of small hovels. Whilst Alron had never been curious enough to familiarize himself with modern technology, he recognized the spinning wheels as storages for spin-energy.

  A few of the shirtless workers and furnace mechanics paused to ogle at him and Fei. Most ignored them completely, continuing to feed the furnaces with dragonfire.

  “Oi! Who’re you and what do yer think you’re doing here, get out— NOOOO, boy get yer hands off of the pipes!” A massive woman sporting a bulging chest and belly marched at them, scowling through a layer of soot.

  Alron pried a pipe from the wall. He dragonized it, and squeezed strength from the heartstring vestiges intertwined with his muscles, summoning his full strength behind the throw. The pipe whistled as it flew, and punched through the axle supporting one of the dynamo wheels.

  Metal croaked painfully. People—including the shouting woman—shrank away, protecting their ears. The spin-core began to wobble on a tilted axle. It fell loose with a deafening rumble of metal, crushing machinery and denting the floor with sheer weight. Workers scrambled to evacuate.

  “Hm.” Alron frowned in dismay. “I need a mightier weapon.”

  “Where’d you lose the ones Mlev made?” asked Fei.

  Alron pried another thin pipe from the wall and threw it at the second spin-core. Black smoke poured from the broken tubes and dragonfire spilled from the forges.

  “They broke against Armageddon Blade after she died,” he said.

  “Ow, she’ll be livid if she lives.”

  “I’ll have to compose an apology.” Alron chuckled, breaking another spin-core.

  “Where’d you leave Armageddon Blade then? Oh, and by the by…” Fei gestured at a door on the opposite end of the dynamo room.

  Warriors clad in bulky full body suits of blackmetal armor, which covered their eyes with round pieces of red see-through metal, stormed in. With interlocking thick kite shields of blackmetal, they assumed a tight formation with only their halberdiers peeking through. Behind two such lines of armored halberdiers appeared wyrmkin with half-formed missiles of dragonfire in their claws, and a group of wyrmkin wielding small shoulder-carried cannons that Alron had not seen before.

  Their operators blew fire into a system of bellows hanging from their neck, which connected to a series of rapidly pumping pneumatics and odd machinery. With piercing bangs and bursts of pure white brightness, the shoulder-cannons fired.

  Alron raised his wing to shield them, but the chaos of smoke and the exploding dynamo room alone made the shots miss. Like fists of metal, the miniature shells punished the broken dynamo room, wreaking further havoc.

  A beam fell from the ceiling. Alron caught it with both hands.

  “It took me five years to unmake his blade. I flooded it with my dragonsoul, until the vestiges lost cohesion and the blade broke.” Alron adjusted his grip on the metal beam, dragonizing it.

  Rusted metal smoothed into crimson and bent, transforming into an enormous claw. A few of the warriors threw hasty dragonfire missiles at Alron, while the cannoneers re-loaded. With a single breath, Fei created a blazing wall of soulfire and blocked their pitiful missiles.


  Alron hefted the twenty foot claw for a firm grip, and swung at the floor. It punched a deep dent, revealing a compartment between the floor and the outer hull. Being the diligent worker he was, Alron raised the claw back up, and kept on hacking at the floor without a pause.

  “It never occurred to me that I would need a weapon like that. I assumed I’d be facing greedy thieves seeking the Scourge’s vestiges. Individual wyrmkin, not armies,” he said, and punched the beam-claw all the way through to the sea. Dark water sprayed in with the force of a geyser.

  Fei stopped exhaling fire, and clicked her tongue. “At this rate it’ll take days to sink them all. Don’t they carry anything that would suit you? How about those small cannons? They seem useful.”

  “Pah.” Alron balked at the thought. “Too weak. Besides, I’d rather use something that plays to my strengths. I’ll see if I spot something passable.”

  When Fei’s fire faded, the two-man thick wall of halberdiers charged through the smoke, cannoneers close behind them. Alron lobbed the beam at them idly. To his surprise, the warriors managed to move in unison, catching it with their shields. However, it opened a gap in their formation.

  Alron threw his weight down, dug his claws into the metal floor for leverage, and pounced with the speed of a diving falcon. His wings stabbed through weak points between plates, piercing the chainmail, cloth, flesh, and bone beneath. In ten sweeping strikes, all but two of the warriors fell dead. Alron blinked, surprised by their survival.

  One was a swordswoman, whose black horns matched her helmet. Flexible black wings wrapped around her hips like a metal skirt. Gold rope of an officer hung over her shoulder, with three tassels of seniority. She was the ship’s Wing Captain. Her weapon was a long, thin blade.