19.3 \ 201

“It is I: son of Rossalin.” He wielded his sword with the same determination of existence with which his grandmother swung her flail thresher at her homesteader’s pile of grain. Launching himself forward, he swung an arc at a scaly mass that was nearly close enough.

“I am the one who illuminates the decipherment of thought when need calls you to me. I am the brightness in the dark.” A quick lash of Ignivus’ tail barely missed the ducking crown of the battler’s head.

“It is I: son of Leta.” The flowers in his grandmother’s hair and garden surrounded him with a soft feeling of safety, smoothing his movements with sureness of love. He whirled his blade as the dragon closed, avoiding him yet.

“I am the one who can lead you out of chaotic jungles to have all the many things you desire, novelties and passions.” The Dragon snapped at the sword but fell just short. “I am a magnificence!”

“It is I: son of Veres.” Veres, who made his way to another galaxy as a beacon of the future for his family. His determined reach was in his grandson’s sword as it scored a breadth of scales that were surprisingly easy to slice. Ichor hissed and bubbled at the edges of the cut, Ignivus roaring with anger as well as pain. The swordsman marveled momentarily at the way Dragons reform themselves into different kinds of bodies that are yet alive.

As Ignivus rushed in a lightning rampage toward him, the man avoided the smashing feet and coils with a series of tumbles and slides, getting knocked around a little but keeping hold of his sword, which may have made a couple slices. “I am the one who weaves between worlds as you discover them. I give the first and last breath of hope for life in another place.” Ignivus crushed er feet into the pavement, cratering the terrain. “I am an essential sign of your survival.”

“It is I: son of Keron.” Keron, who bent the world with benevolent forces to build a beautiful and great home. He gave his grandson something to fight for. During a rushing sweep, the swordsman leaped, grabbing onto a spine near the head of the Dragon, blade dangling firmly in his fingers.

“I am the tenuous connection in the essence of dreaming, as you and many beings know it. The history of ideas and invention without me is bereft.” Ignivus writhed furiously, while the swordsman gained and retained purchase among horns and spines.

“I, brother of the lost but redeemed.” He made his way forward, looking for the spot, the moment, the strike, keeping astride the motion of a mad world.

“I, who kindle and blossom.”

“I, love to the rapturous stalwart.”

“I, who rids the stale paradigm.”

“I, father to a voice of wisdom.”

“I, who keeps the heart alive and beating.”

“I, friend to efflorescence in twilight.”

“I, who lit an age to the depths of its corners.”

“I, champion of life’s passing sweetness.” Getting close to the edge.

“I, who from the formless personified a reality. You, do you think that you are greater than I?” Ignivus snapped er head back, sending the swordsman spinning and flipping in midair, light glancing everywhere from the blade still in his grip.

He fell close enough to catch a protrusion in the center of the Dragon’s forehead, and for a fraction of a breath he dangled looking Ignivus directly in the eye. “No. I know we are the same.”

He launched the hiltless sword deep, deep into the recesses through the gazing orb of awareness, exploding in that moment as the sword flew forward, like into a destiny it had already known.

19.2 \ 201

Dragonslayers were not well accredited, in this day and age. The presence of this one was a provisionary fluke; Alisandre was the only location with one on hand. Perhaps even the old orders had lost the heart. But not this one, this time. Extraneous noises faded from hearing. Ready to end the dance of gazes, the swordsman hoisted his weapon and issued a challenge.

“Do you know this sword? This was the sword that killed your kin, Hamurlae. When the songs of forging turned against us and began destroying our families, taking our lives, strife arising from partnership: we gave up our treasured accomplishments to save our sanity, the songs of forging lost with Hamurlae. This blade was made with those songs that can never again be sung. The jewel, however, has been replaced – not the first, which burst in the heart of Hamurlae.”

Ignivus let loose a deeply offended roar. “Who dares wave this ill token before my sight?” ‘E lashed er coils to strike a set of claws at this bravo. The swordsman stepped aside from the spray of street chunks.

19.1 \ 201

I recall such vile figures as this from a long ago time,
when those that formed their side incited our rage.
They who built our cage demonized, yet feasted by our fire.

As Ignivus said this last, ‘e focused er attention on the barely-armed man, flight-weaving and coming to land like a lizard with vestigial feet, bright in color. A jewel in the sword pommel caught the light of flames that Ignivus sparked in the air around er.

The swordsman said nothing while striding forward, carrying the large blade at a balanced lift. There was no scabbard. They thought things had changed. They thought they wouldn’t need dragonslayers anymore. Now people may remember why they existed in the first place: it wasn’t weapons that killed a Dragon. They can’t be overpowered, only matched. In valor, certainty, and conviction, a person can match a Dragon. In some way or another, a dragon is as a person. In some way or another, a person can be as a dragon. Dragons don’t need to be killed in order to die, but when they need to die, they can be killed. They know a lot of things, but they aren’t always right.

The two circled as the swordsman continued to advance, while Ignivus assessed and kept a distance. People had learned that killing a Dragon is not a great idea in every way. It was with a pained expression that Claymore had given him the go signal. Beyond any pure sympathy of respect, things no longer work as accustomed when a Dragon dies. The fundamental makeup of the universe is changed, which does also happen on its own, including when a dragon emerges from its elemagnetic generative gyre (as academics had newly dubbed the rarely-observed birth phenomenon).

Choosing to create such an occurrence causes a shock, something people in history hadn’t been able to explain until they understood more regarding intrinsic connections. It was a mystery as to all the things that would change, maybe unnoticeable right away. Here, they decided to run the risks.

18 \ 200

Exactly what the human military would do was of interest to the re-education units. They imagined that response would be forthcoming, without knowing the nature of it. One motivation driving the Vedani emergence into the Pan-Galactic Imperium was the fact that they did not underestimate humans. Though they possessed technology that had advanced human invention, these distant cousins had their own spark of innovation.

They did know, from their initial introduction with inhabited Hirylien, that not all humans were deceptively rapacious killers, as some other interactions had alarmed them into believing. Sturlusson the elder had been fair and wise, had believed as they did that their contact could mean a momentous shift in the course of their peoples. But they had also been covertly stolen from, kidnapped, tortured, and murdered, suppressed and shunned in their efforts to reach the leadership of this civilization. Supposedly this empire was built on cooperation, but Vedani knew too, for themselves, that adherence to ideals was never constant.

The villains no doubt thought that they could hide what they’d done, but Vedani share with each other more than they hide. The amount of people who experienced, via bio-aetherscape, everything that befell their emissaries was more than could be reckoned. They now suspected that humans could figure out how to pursue them violently for the sake of gain without ever acknowledging them as people.

They did not sit comfortably in a mistaken belief of superiority. First, they took away what had been theirs to begin with, that technology which had been appropriated from their wreckage and adapted to become the new wave of signal strength and transport security. They knew exactly how to control those frequencies, like calling their stolen horse.

There were options. People could figure out what they were trying to say, and attempt to communicate. Or, they could attack, and in this case they were ready to learn what humans could do in this regard, and ready to retaliate should they be able to accomplish much.

The signal storm performed the interesting effect of discrete channel scrambling; images sent to one window showed up in another, which caused an amusing confusion amongst individual streamers. When some of the stationary-stop beams located their targets, the results caused consternation. This interaction began to alter portal parameters, turning windows into doors – exactly what Vedani suspected humans might just manage someday. Properties of the reflective began to morph into those of a sendthrough, and other wavelengths induced elements of the transanchor. Windows turned into doors, and the doors were stuck open.

Unwillingly set into contingency preparations, the awaiting allies took charge. Dragons broke out through these gates as though reality were a screen of twigs. The viewing portals, opened, created a workaround through the Viridian Phasing defense.

Red Nexus Dragons were not numerous, but they were furious. Just one, willing to wreak destruction in a zone, was more than anybody wanted. That’s how they appeared, one to a zone at a time, changing places from one zone to another. It seemed like there were more than eight. Were there more than eight? There had been initially, though it was known that some died in banishment. The human-Dragon war which brought that about had been so long ago barely any humans knew their names, but they were learning them again.

These Dragons attacked nearby, active, focused, and stored weaponry by the means of their elemental domains, causing the greatest possible level of damage to the Imperium’s hostile capabilities. Military personnel were at liberty to flee or protect themselves in whatever way they could, though many could not. Means of recording, however, were left untouched and often actively addressed. Thanks to this, their vitriolic orations were captured in full, to be viewed and reviewed by all. Acamar, the new dragon, was noted absent, while er first eight were present as could be. They had old business.

I carry this rage
from outside of time –
an unextinguished fire
freed from its cage
to seek on this side
of life, enemies vile.

In the zone where Petralm appeared in Ionos, fuel fires sprang up that could not be extinguished. Almost everything has a form of fuel, as this Dragon understood it, and those things that could be used against er were consumed in their own fuels.

Those who named us vile
inspired this rage.
We stood for our side
in another time,
and there was built a cage
to contain our fire.

In that zone where Kordiyt appeared in Pioneer, projectiles and hostile energy projections misfired, malfunctioned, or went errant. Targets could not be acquired, and targeting equipment lost the ability.

You needed our fire,
so you did something vile:
made a killing cage
to satisfy your rage,
to last throughout time
and shelter your side.

In the experimental zone where Mbarx appeared in Primatris, inherent temperatures of active weaponry rose to intolerable levels, cooking and melting it to slag.

Illusions of a side.
Our kind of fire
knows no time.
We are not vile!
Life grew from our rage;
it was the key to our cage.

In the area where Magneu appeared in Archipelago, weaponized light flared to magnitudes, from laser beams down to digital displays and power indicators. The overactivity completely seized things that utilized an iota of brightness, and malfunctioned nearby machinery.

From the illusion of our cage,
we met a new side
that understood our rage.
We lend them our fire
to rectify such vile
actions done in this time.

In the zone where Ulphos appeared in Ferris, chemical reactions within devices ignited in whatever ways possible – burning, bursting, and corroding mechanisms and housings to inactivity.

Now is the time!
There is no more cage!
Whatever may seem vile,
whatever your side,
you must know this fire
to resolve our rage.

In the experimental zone where Ignivus appeared on Alisandre, sparks exploded wherever one could be struck within a method of attack. Unbelievable chain reactions sent one spark of destruction to another, to another.

While Red Nexus did rounds decimating Imperial offense, the Vedani portals under attack froze blank with barred signal. At the same time, they tightened their grip on frequency control and widened their portaled areas. There was outcry. Perimeter and area weapons that were somehow not lost to attack were now turned onto the Dragons, but to little efficacy. The damage was grim, the wreckage severe.

Out of the dust, fire, and smoke in Alisandre Capital strode one man. He would say that his name was not important. He wore leather, no shirt, one pauldron his only armor. He carried a sword. Ignivus turned to see him, and reared er form.

17 \ 199

The Alisandre Capital Diplomat’s Quarter had already been evacuated. For that and other tactical reasons, this was staged as the zone of experimental conflict against the portal invasion for the Capital city. Equipment was set up around the perimeter; larger physical weaponry blocked some streets, and various technological safeguards were set up in emptied buildings. The streets were quiet, though the viewing portals apparent here continued broadcasting, like the others throughout this city and multiple population centers in every federet.

Only King Proxem Vario and General Draig Claymore were physically present at their communication point, where they were planning the coordinated disruption effort. The face of each federet’s General occupied a screen panel, their files and schematics hovering in the surrounding airspace.

Upon initiating records for this session, they’d done their roll call. “All federets represented by top level, Iparia by Lieutenant Corporal,” stated General Alisandre-Claymore.

“Any message from General Iparia?” asked King Proxem Vario to the reporting officer, named by her federet in this current role.

She replied, “He said I would be understood if I reported that he was rabbit hunting, Sir.”

Vario turned to share a look with Claymore before his acknowledgment. “We’re familiar with his passion for this particular prey. At times his drive has become all-consuming, and we’ve never yet held that against him. We’re glad to have you, Lieutenant Corporal Iparia.” He brought forth a fresh communication. “I’ll share with you the most recent update on this situation from our analysts.

“People have identified certain forms in the images sent by the strangers as biometrically human, and distinct from the Strangers, who are non-human while possessing similarities of conformation. People are now reinterpreting some of the scenes with that in mind, though the images are made mainly of forms without details.

“There are shapes under debate in these scene captures, many claiming that they resemble some of our dated technology, which places some scenes within time frames. Some government databases are experiencing increased reference, including rejections of requests for classified information.”

Each portal shared its own sets of images in its own fashion, it had been determined. Though images were shared within the total pool, there appeared to be unique perspectives and sequences of presentation. This excited the puzzle workers of a populace bored for lack of its usual sources of entertainment.

“At this point, we have to demonstrate defensive capability, or at least willingness,” was Vario’s estimation. They continued synchronizing phases of the pre-emption. Each federet had slightly different sets of equipment, but they would use them all to similar effect in their experimental zones. They would activate shields and white/pink noise walls, then fire up sonic and signal storm generators. Multi-frequency focused beam arrays were aimed at the projection patches in both passthrough and stationary-stop patterns. These would be engaged beginning with one test patch, then in ascending sets throughout their areas. They planned an alternation of amplitudes and waveforms that could theoretically affect or create a reaction in the projections.

Plans were in place, and the time had come. Each commanding officer, Generals and Lieutenant Corporal, confirmed their plan sets and went from their respective chambers to their command centers, General Alisandre with King Proxem Vario apace.

Here in the Capital, the command center was staged in a meeting hall with a centrally-facing four story window. This building and its surrounding area housed one of each type of active equipment, performing with those staged in other buildings. They were running communications with old fashioned local area line connections, along with three kinds of early-prototype remote signals that worked around the widespread net interruption being experienced in projection portal areas. There were just enough operators with extant equipment to run that for these areas, but not for the wider populace, in signal darkness like they hadn’t known during this generation.

Emerging into the center, Draig was immediately flanked by four to seven in chain of command who began accepting their plan sets from him. Each at his side was replaced by another in efficacious rotation until all systems had worked through their startups and reached states of concerted readiness.

Soon, the people around him had no further actions and were waiting on his word. Draig rested his eyes on the Aquari outdoor murals within view, inherently active and displaying unusual mood patterns. Hard to know whether it was all personnel reflection, or whether any of it was reading from the portals. Tension and conflict were the apparent themes in jagged and ragged clashing color, interspersed with the flat calms of zero reading.

The quiet sound of the synchronizing timer began on General Alisandre’s fingerfall.