65 \ 153

EXTANT/PRESENT

sibling scions:
Mireille – ambitious, structured
Cristobal – reserved, considerate
Carlo – tempestuous, decisive

ascendant, son-in-line:
Grant Vario – distinguished, worthy

regent:
myself, Celeste – steadfast, unrelenting

DECEASED/MISSING

ascendant:
Charlotte – ferocious, efficient

scion, absent:
Soleil – piercing, valorous

[from the Annals of Celeste, Magus the 24th]

64 \ 152

Another of my house falls away, or near enough to count; out of many Councillors, the closest of all of them to my granddaughter, also the only dragon among them. Having survived a near-fatal attack, Arkuda immediately resigned er post.

This changes everything, while everything is changing. Another Dragon Councillor must be found. With regards to our friend, a dragon has necessary prerogatives. The Magus dynasty survives with determination.

I think now on the painting, “A Window to the Past” by Earne Andem. The frame of the window stands somehow, despite the surrounding building being blasted or crumbled away. The skies all around are grey, but through the window shows clear blue. At times I resort to this window to secure a moment of peace.

Sturlusson (the younger) disappeared from his Cage of Eternity. I’m ready for him. I remember shaking his father’s hand, pup of a boy at his side. Now he wants to bring ruin, well… there can be ruin. Already, pillars are falling. My mood is shifting away from careful.

Descendant Successor for whom these records exist: in such times, you must be willing to unleash your power.

[from the Annals of Celeste, Magus the 24th]

63 \ 151

Returning to the larger glyphscape of the Tabula Rasa, the Dragon Councillor looked around. There was another dragon present who would also be joining the next phasing shift, Rhizoa. Arkuda went to er and sang about the unfolding of a certain flower, and ‘e sang back about the unfurling of a specific leaf. Flower and leaf, together blooming and unfolding at this moment. The two dragons would each go to places far distant, one to the flower, one to the leaf; never were flower and leaf side by side, yet here on Tabula Rasa their songs were intertwined. These two places, along with the others, were the next activation corners of the Viridian Phasing spanning the Imperium.

Distancing once more, the Dragon Councillor picked an aesthetic perspective to look upon the heart’s-fire breath of delight, the luminous art that was glyphwork. Ephemeral thought naturally expressed to precise understanding; clear to the mind’s eye, a soothing balm of effortless communication at play, any dragon to all dragons. Only here. Hanging in the central space overhead, creature portraits from various parts of the universe sat or stood next to each other in a multiform lineup: evidence of a discussion on beings. Below was an amalgamated cluster of town and garden notions, from splendorous to spare, and glyphs noting other plainespaces. Nothing stayed still, for nothing was real; yet here, it was all that was real.

With that last heavy gaze, Arkuda descended directly back through er Gateway Stair. The dimension set which housed the Pan-Galactic Imperium became near, then evident, then manifest. The capital city of the planet Alisandre was nearby, and the sun was rising. The dragon eyed the flower which had bloomed, sentimentally noting its beauty. The flower’s sweet breath indicated news of all its neighbors: evergreens, head-wavers, long grasses, low crawling greens, climbing fiber, standing stem, branching reachers, and high-point markers. The dragon listened to their denizens, small and large, groundwalking and airborne. ‘E listened all the way toward the capital, the largest group of denizens in this forest. After absorbing for a moment into that cacophony, ‘e was ready to begin.

One breath after another, Arkuda as winged serpentine rose over the treetops. Similar to Arctyri’s rise over the Pyrean Midsummer vision, the dragon coiled upward and leveled to a circular toroidal path, with variances, and not exactly biting er tail as in classic art.

Between a caterpillar’s rustle, a murmuring airwave, and a quivering insect, Arkuda found a song: a diva ballad. From that, ‘e picked a sound frequency, and in the breeze through the leaves were two other songs with a similar frequency. Arkuda picked parts from the structure of these songs to focus on and play through. Music is a part of the universe that dragons know well, and linking songs with sounds was a matter of hearing and speaking. There is also plenty of broadcasted music over airwave spectra that are easily audible to dragons, who often communicate musically. Some dragons enjoy populated airwaves, and others don’t. Though fondness of music wasn’t necessary to project a phasing, Arkuda loved it.

‘E projected over the dragonroads which, in one understanding, are a combination of frequencies with spatial ties. Dragonroads are phenomena which naturally arise from life in the universe as it exists, like rivers. Dragons have different roads available to them according to what they embody.

The participatory inclusion of surrounding vegetation was necessary for power of broadcast, directional scatter, and stochasticity/randomness. Some dragons are better with plants than others, but their communicative properties can be harnessed with basic skill. The delicate angle of a leaf toward its favorite night star, the million tiny breathing mouths on the skin of the greenery, meristematic push from the inner upward flow of water, vibrato tremble under a breeze, the chlorophyll flush of light transformation; properties of plants throughout the galaxies were what transformed simple projection, akin to a phone call, into the Viridian Phasing.

Arkuda continued modulating projections until ‘e heard the echoes of like bouncing off of like. That meant current projections were now intersecting. Taking in the new sounds, ‘e worked via those as well. Arkuda kept ahold of the thread of progress, while losing track of the causal route, which was part of the effective process. Songs, sounds, and cues blended over each other until one couldn’t distinguish a garden from Genoe or Iparia, nor the origins of resonantly familiar songs. The Imperium’s dragonroad routes were thoroughly shuffled and sentried. The phasing also acted as a network of tripwires and response connections in event of hostility. All participants supported the phasing daily at agreed-upon randomized times. Some analogized it to compulsory karaoke.

At times, a dragon in phasing can see through into distances, a visual superimposition. Therefore, the blackgate that appeared in front of Arkuda in the dawning sky wasn’t overly suprising. It garnered an interested eye. Then, there was a slow scraping sound which tripped over something that struck, and a tiny spark of flame kindled beyond the blackgate. A whoosh of recognition blew over Arkuda’s form; this wasn’t a farseeing, but a nearing presence. ‘E continued to sing the phasing while shifting to a battle-ready hover.

This was the first dragon attack since the birth of Acamar, and Arkuda was more than happy to take the charge. The dragon’s approach possessed umistakable elements. Why would Ignivf act the fool and battle Arkuda in dawn? ‘E must have really missed er.

There was time for Arkuda to pulse a detailed alarm to the others before tornadoing mobius arcs of combustion drove er as far back as ‘e would go until whirling to one open side. IGNIVF, Ignivus, was here.

The brightness of Ignivus’ living spark outshone, while Arkuda’s encompassing radiance made Ignivus smaller. They feinted towards each other in torrential sparring, fractal edges of their power meshing and separating. The tender tops of trees beneath them singed, though nothing more kindled.

Then Ignivus found a strong grip on Arkuda, and wrenched free a long stripe of scales which hurtled to the ground as gold. Silvery-white ichor fell from the wound as Arkuda hissed in pain, coagulating into a dark red resinous mess as it dropped. Arkuda threw er head back once more to bugle distress across the phasing channels. A response was already underway.

The edges of the blackgate warped with color as their phasing found and took hold of it. Two of the phasing dragons were on the other side, while three remained in their places, upholding the greater Viridian Phase.

Ignivus was alone, so they didn’t call other dragons to bear. Some of the plants lending themselves to the Viridian Phasing were sacrificed, instantly dry-withering to create a frequency-manipulated energy lattice. This cast a portal-net across the blackgate, held by the two dragons on the other side. Arkuda felt er large wound burning as ‘e grew with the dawn light, keeping Ignivus at bay.

Sightlines to Alisandre Capital were clear, and humans were beginning to send air support. These were the Shield/Amp units that had been prepared. Arkuda’s aim, besides avoiding further injury, was to keep the pieces of conflict in alignment so it could be brought to a smooth close. ‘E acted as both target and prod, a distraction that Ignivus could not avoid.

The Shield/Amp units arrived and positioned themselves around Arkuda. Directionally transforming one kind of power to another, they absorbed blows of Ignivus’ power and sent it in translated waves to Arkuda. The units emitted confusing pitches that made them very hard for Ignivus to target. Arkuda used the added energy to keep erself and er foe separate and in position.

“They protect you now, do they?” Ignivus’ voice was achingly familiar. Arkuda was one of those that nurtured this one’s egg, contemplating er existence before ‘e ever spoke. “Remember… if they claim to protect you, they can just as well chain you.” As Ignivus spoke, the portal netting reached from the blackgate behind to entrap er. “Better prey than friends!”

“We’ve all learned so much together, Ignivf.” The blackgate shrank around the net, closing on a final burst of flame. “Maybe you’ll see.” Arkuda sank slowly into a pool of er own dried blood, listening to er beating heart.

 

88

A disheveled driver walked into a bar and took a seat by her favorite bartender. There were a couple occupied booths in the room, but otherwise it was an empty morning. The music was a cheerful rolling ballad at odds with her bereaved look.

“Hot Silver, please.”

“You got it. Been a long few weeks, has it? You were here just before Pyrean Midsummer, wasn’t it.” A smile played across his face as he began to heat and mix.

“Yeah. Actually I can’t think back that far right now. I just watched hundreds of uniforms ordered to fight something that would kill them. Using means completely unequal to the danger. I had the luxury of my own prerogative, so here I sit.” She looked out the window into a ray of sun for a breath while her drink began to steam behind the counter. She looked over doleful, yet matter of fact. “There are dragons at war.”

“You don’t say.” His tone remained light through a furrowed brow. He sprinkled spice over the top and delivered the cup to her hands.

“I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.” Her head drooped over the cup as she inhaled the steam. Just as she began to close her eyes, someone yelled out from the kitchen.

“Hey Joe! Epic stack, look at this epic stack!”

Joe looked over at his loyal customer. “That’s our new dishwasher. He’s done it a few times, hasn’t broken one yet.” He patted the bar as he turned to go to the kitchen.

Looking sideways over her cup, Wendel murmured, “There’s a voice…”

Re-emerging, the bartender gestured to her. “You should come see this.” Collecting herself, Wendel took a breath and a sip and followed him in.

For a stack, it could be said to be epic. Largest pans and sheets on the bottom, going to smaller pans, to platters and appropriately-sized dishes with the occasional balancing item, to a rotating tower of mugs and cups that ended in a pyramid. Other words that came to mind were magnificent; unprecarious; commendable.

She looked over to appraise the stacker and was greeted with a smiling face. “It’s you,” said the boy, grinning with his mouth open.

She blinked at Toller, suddenly breathless. “Hey, it’s… it’s you too.” She gravitated toward him to hold him in her arms for a moment. “You got a job, I see?”

The boy poked Joe in the side. “I left the capital after the Aquari concert. That really capped off the whole experience for me. At the docks, I found a ship with room headed for Dalmeera, so.” He pointed to the stack of dishes.

Wendel turned to the bartender. “Joe I hate to tell you this, but your dishwasher is overqualified.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I know. I just figured I could get away with it for a little while.”

“Well, you’re good at doing it.” She smiled at the both of them and looked at the cup in her hand, still steaming. She looked back up at the boy. “Hey have you tried this stuff?”

Toller looked at Joe. “Well I’m not really old enough, no.”

Wendel tilted her head at the bartender. “Is he old enough?”

Joe eyed the stack of dishes, all clean. “He’s older than I was. He can have his own cup. Stay back here. And would you take that apart and put it away?” The last he said to Toller, who saluted.

Toller set a chair on the countertop beside it, showing how unprecarious the stack really was. He climbed on top and began filling his arms with the assorted dishware. “You didn’t take long to come back, either.”

She made a long sniff. “It all really depends.” She just watched him do his job. “So you remembered the place?”

“Actually I met Joe at the seadocks where they were bringing up shellfish. He seemed like someone I could hustle for work, and I was right. Man was carrying too much.” He laughed and laughed with the dishes. “He brought me back here and I knew where I was.”

Halfway down the stack, the bartender returned with one for the boy and one for him. They clinked mugs and held them together for a moment, looking at the pictures in steam and spice and silver.

Upon his first sip, Toller made a face like he just saw a beast. Then he looked into the cup. “Are you kidding me what is this?”

Joe savored his sip and lifted his head. “Just something good we make here.”

Wendel smacked her lips in agreement and ran her tongue over her teeth. “Well young one, I want to tell you. You’ve got options.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really. With me, for one.”

“I could be mad at you.” Joe wiggled his mug in the air.

Wendel took a long, appreciative sip. “And lose your favorite customer?”

87

Arkuda could see the moment reverberating, behaviors and sentences replaying themselves on a fast elliptical, like distance marks on a running track, or the position of a planet during its solar celebration.

Carlos squirmed, sniffling occasionally and rubbing his fists to his eyes. Mireille’s hand kept finding various places to rest on her face. Cristobal sat hands curled in his lap, feet even in front of him. Their grandmother’s face was a mask.

He didn’t like describing dragon birth to the royal family, Queen and three grandchildren. Reducing the arcane nature of it into a methodical explanation gave him the shivers, as though he would be giving the wrong information. This mystery had kept peaceful relations between their people for nearly the entirety of the Imperium’s existence. But it was his task to help them understand what had happened in the face of their mother’s loss, the woman who was to be the next Queen.

He addressed the children primarily, as the Queen had bid. “Your mother fell to misdirection, a mistake when confronted with an unknown. We are often born of unknowns, that we don’t understand when we find them. This one wished to consume on its opening. That it was what it was, I’m sorry I didn’t foresee. And now, this one is born, its root existence set. In this way, at this time. We don’t know its name yet, so it’s still difficult to describe. It has to tell someone what it is.”

“We’ve kept our births a mystery for good reason, because that’s what they are, still. Only the first eight of a dragon have some idea of what’s going to happen, when or where. They are the only ones who are fairly safe nearby. They have little idea how to control their spatial dimensions at first. It’s a unique occurrence every time, and the events are hardly recordable.

“While this one stormed in its birthplace, its first eight appeared around it, which can be typical; in this case it was a shock. I’m saddened by the loss of the entire two-Alpha fleet. Those ancients are dragons we banished in the War.”

Here, the Queen interrupted to explain. “When dragons refer to the War, they mean the one that erupted in the Imperium during the reign of Oisine, when we had only expanded into the Primatris Federet. It was waged on human planets and over the value of humans’ and dragons’ rights and lives. The only one since we’ve known them.

Those dragons who insisted on their entitlements against humans had the rest working against them, and in a singular work of binding became trapped on the other side of a wall.”

Arkuda bowed his head. “We missed our cousins. We felt that their existences were continued, in the persistence of balances. They’re not back on friendly terms, clearly. We’re going to have to react to defend ourselves. They’ve dispersed after destroying their vicinity. They are the same Red Nexus of old, minus some. Plus one.”