Path of Dragons

It should have bothered him more.

As Miguel looked at the shimmering wall of ethera, he reached out and touched it. The surface was permeable, but not so diffuse that it wouldn’t take significant effort to bypass. However, what should have alarmed him was that on the other side of that translucent barrier, time looked like it was standing still.

At first, he hadn’t really noticed it, but after a while of staring at the forest, he saw a bird hanging in the air, its posture making it clear that it was in mid-flight. After that, he saw dozens of other signs. A squirrel sitting on a tree branch, eternally gnawing on an acorn. The forest itself, frozen in place, without even the slightest breeze to rustle the trees’ leaves. It all added up to something truly distressing.

And yet, he wasn’t alarmed.

That frightened him more than anything else, because it represented the notion that his mind was not wholly his own.

“I knew you’d find it eventually, hmm.”

Miguel glanced back at the old woman who’d suddenly appeared behind him. As the days had worn on, and he’d recovered, her inhumanness became that much more apparent. She was only a little larger than a dwarf, and she shared their slightly tapered ears. However, that was where the similarities ended. Instead of the overly broad shoulders of a dwarf, she possessed a human-like stature.

But most of his attention fell upon the old woman’s skin.

Back in the cottage, he’d not noticed it, but the texture was reminiscent of bark, with tiny green tendrils glowing from within her deep wrinkles. More importantly, to his more ethereal senses, she felt similar to the trees all around. Not as much as Nerthus, but enough that Miguel had to wonder what she was.

Her eyes widened slightly, but then she let out a deep guffaw. Bending double, she slapped her knee as her body shook with laughter. Miguel ground his teeth in frustration, but he endured her amusement silently. Finally, she recovered enough to say, “I apologize, hmm. I forget how little of the multi-verse you know. Your ignorance is not your fault. To answer your question, no – I am not a spryggent.”

“Then what are you?” he asked. Miguel hadn’t even been treated to the woman’s name, though until that moment, he’d not thought anything of it. It was as if being in her presence made him forget otherwise important things. “Are you messing with my mind?”

“Of course I am,” she answered. “If I hadn’t, you would have already gone mad.”

“Wha-”

She laughed again, though this time, it was slightly more subdued. “So gullible, hmm. I altered your perception so you wouldn’t discover the time bubble sooner. Couldn’t let you panic and leave before you were ready.”

“And I’m ready now?”

“No.”

“Then why have you –”

“I’m not all powerful, boy. You have a keen mind, and it takes a lot of energy to keep it corralled. But now we need to have a conversation,” she said. Suddenly, her tone became much more serious. “You are unprepared for what awaits you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your life. You are family to the most powerful man on Earth. A dragon who will one day become relevant on a multi-versal scale. Worse, if you were to die out here in the woods, it would send him down a very dark road,” she stated. “I was sent here to help avoid that fate.”

“You’re going to help in Ironshore?”

“No.”

“But you said –”

“There are rules associated with a newly touched world,” she said. “One of those is that someone like me or Birk cannot participate in conflicts. The most I can offer is training. Not that it would matter. In this form, I can barely channel ethera at all.”

“But Birk killed that dark elf.”

“Killing one little elf doesn’t constitute participation. Not in the eyes of the system, at least,” she reponded.

“Are you a dragon?”

She smiled. “No. Drake, actually. Think of me as a lesser dragon.”

“How does that work?” Miguel asked.

“Draconic society is a complex thing. There are dragons and drakes, serpentors and wyrms. There are also more humanoid beings from worlds within the Empire of Scale. Comparatively, dragons are incredibly rare. Drakes like me less so. Serpentors form the core of dragonic society, though they take many different forms depending on their world of origin.”

“And wyrms?”

“Pitiful creatures who rejected the path of dragons in favor of a more savage existence.”

“What’s the difference? I mean –”

“We are not here to speak on such things,” she stated. “We are here to train you to confront the dangerous circumstances in which you find yourself.”

“What kind of training?” Miguel asked.

“The sort that takes more time than we have,” she answered. “Thus, the chrono-bubble. I made it myself, hmm.”

“Are you a time mage, then?” he asked.

“Bah – so many questions!” she replied with a wave of her gnarled hand. “No. I’m no mage. I only dabble a bit in crafting. Most Druids do.”

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“You’re a –”

“Of course I am, boy. Don’t you trust your senses?”

“I…I thought I felt something, but…”

“That is your problem, hmm. You have so much power at your fingertips. So much potential. Yet, you do not know how to use it. That’s where Birk comes in. His class is similar to yours, though even he would say that you could be so much more. He is a simple Grove Guardian. Strong. Loyal. And fiercely protective of our grove, but he is no Green Warden.”

“So, it’s rare?”

“Only one per grove, and that’s only if a suitable candidate can be found. Few groves are so lucky. Very, very few. You are not unique, young Miguel, but you are certainly rare. I say this to emphasize just how much you’ve been screwing it all up.”

“What? I’ve been training as –”

“You have created a solid foundation, but you are far behind where you should be. Children in the Empire of Scale are trained from a very young age so that no potential is wasted,” she said. “You are years behind. That is why I am here.”

Miguel narrowed his eyes. “Wait. What about dragons? My uncle told me about a young dragon who –”

“True dragons are different. You are not one of them, hmm. Don’t go looking at one of them and thinking that you should approach life the same way,” she said. “Now, do you accept my help? Or will you insist upon continuing your quest before you’re ready.”

“How long?”

“No more than six months,” she said. “In that time, less than a day will pass out there. When you emerge, you will be far better suited to complete your task. However, I caution you that it will be quite difficult. You’ve already experienced some of Birk’s methods, but know that he’s been taking it easy on you. If you accept this offer, he will train you as he was trained. The moment you slack off or complain, we will be done. Do you understand well enough to make a decision?”

Miguel’s mind whirled. He knew he was looking at an unprecedented opportunity. As he’d discovered while fleeing through the forest, he wasn’t powerful enough to fight the dark elves. Sure, he’d been outnumbered, which contributed to his defeat. However, the reality of it was that they were almost all stronger than him. The only reason he’d survived was via tactical thinking and, more importantly, his partnership with Trevor.

With the stag on his side, he could move so much more quickly than the dark elves. And Miguel wasn’t so naïve that he thought he would have made it even a few miles without his companion’s help.

He needed to get stronger. So did Trevor. Otherwise, they’d never live through what was coming.

“You can make me stronger, right?” he asked.

She nodded. “No levels. No cultivation. That’s the problem with time magic like this,” she said. “But we can work on your technique. We can help you gain a few attribute points, too. In six months, we can turn you into an entirely new person.”

That wasn’t what he’d hoped for. After all, if he could gain even a handful of levels in what amounted to a day outside the time bubble, he would stand a much better chance of survival. Advancement with his cultivation would be even more impactful. Yet, with the situation being what it was, Miguel couldn’t even consider refusal. The consequences of failing his mission were too dire. Too many people depended on him to get to Argos and find help.

It was just a shame that neither Birk nor the old woman could directly assist. But providing training was the next best thing.

And besides, Miguel had always enjoyed that kind of thing. So, he said, “I’m in.”

The woman grinned, the expression carrying with it a host of meaning.

“Good, good. Now, let’s get you started.”

After that, Birk appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Miguel hadn’t sensed him at all. The big man – or whatever he was – simply said, “Sprint back to the cabin. If you do not run as fast as you can, you will regret it.”

Miguel hesitated for only a second, which earned him a punch to the back of his head. He fell on his face, his world spinning for a moment before a wave of ethera fell upon him. He recovered in a second, but judging by Birk’s stance, he couldn’t afford to tarry. So, he immediately scrambled to his feet and took off at a dead sprint. He leaped over fallen logs and shallow ravines, pushing himself to his limits.

That was a rarity. Normally, he paced himself, conserving energy so he could run for a longer duration. His lungs burned, and after a quarter of a mile, his legs had turned to jelly. However, he covered that distance in under forty seconds, which meant that he did so faster than anyone in recorded history.

At least before the World Tree touched Earth.

Still, he struggled to push himself harder. To go faster. Because if he didn’t force himself to his limits, then the training would be rendered useless. As Colt was fond of saying, he was free to slack off, but if he did, it only hurt himself. Miguel had taken that to heart, and so, he pushed through the burning in his lungs, reaching an entirely new pace that took him back to the cottage even more quickly than before.

To his shock, Birk was already there waiting on him.

“Acceptable level of effort,” the huge man said, tossing him a hunk of wood shaped like a blade. Unlike his sword, it was clearly not meant to be a real weapon. “Defend yourself.”

Then, Birk threw himself forward. Miguel tried to react, but before he could even move, the practice sword hit him in the neck. He collapsed, but a wave of healing brought him back to normal in only a second.

“Too slow. Again.”

The second time, Miguel managed a twitch before he was sent back to the ground. On the third iteration, he raised his fake blade to block, but it was quickly knocked aside. An instant later, he was back on the ground, his chest feeling as if he had a boulder lying atop it. He hadn’t even seen his trainer’s foot lash out, but he’d certainly felt the impact. Birk healed his broken sternum, and their “training” session continued.

Over and over, Miguel was beaten to a pulp. Each time, he was healed, but by the end of the first hour, he’d begun to regret his choice to endure the training. The second hour had him cursing Birk in his mind. And the third ignited his fury.

But he did improve, if only slightly. More and more often, he managed to get his blade up, but it was useless against Birk’s superior strength and speed. Never did he even get the chance to counterattack, the session was so lopsided.

Finally, after four hours, Birk ordered him to sprint around the edge of the bubble six times. Thankfully, Trevor joined him, though by the third lap, the stag was just as ragged as Miguel. They both continued, pushing themselves well past the point where they should have collapsed.

At one point, Miguel considered simply slipping through the bubble and leaving the sadistic giant behind. Yet, he refused. Partially, that was because he didn’t want to give Birk the satisfaction of giving up. Mostly, it was that. But in addition to sheer stubbornness was the surety that it would work. He wouldn’t enjoy getting stronger. Not this time. But if it gave him the tools to accomplish his mission and, in turn, help to save Ironshore, then he was more than willing to suffer.

So, he continued on. Periodically, he received a jolt of healing that refreshed him – if only slightly – but for the most part, he and Trevor were on their own.

Finally, they completed their run and returned to the cottage. By that point, the sun had begun to set, so Miguel hoped that he would get a slight break. However, Birk shoved a bowl of soup into his hand, saying, “Eat. You have five minutes. Then, training continues.”

Miguel knew better than to argue. He dug in, and the hearty soup sent continuous jolts of vitality through his body. It wasn’t enough to fully recover, but he knew it would allow him to keep going for hours yet. Trevor got a similar treatment, though his meal consisted of a basket full of vegetables and mushrooms.

The moment they were finished, Birk subjected them both to another round of “training”. And the results were similar.

So it went for the next week. During that time, Miguel didn’t sleep a wink, and if it wasn’t for the day-night cycle, he would have lost track of time entirely. He lost count of how many laps he’d run. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d been beaten by Birk. Though there were plenty of times when, instead of running, he was forced to lift progressively heavy rocks. Those were worse.

Finally, at the end of that first week, Birk announced. “Acceptable. Tomorrow, real training begins. Sleep now.”

Miguel immediately collapsed, snuggling close to Trevor and falling asleep.

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