Chapter 36: The Dragon Tells A Story
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Chapter 36: The Dragon Tells A Story
Hikari had almost forgotten how it felt to hear Doomwing tell a story. As a little girl, she had often badgered him for tales. Dreamsong had told her stories too, of course, but Doomwing had known different stories, and Hikari had wanted to hear as many as she could. More than once, she had snuck out of her chambers and made her way to where the dragon rested, which was usually in the lake or the nearby countryside.
Never once had she worried that some misfortune might befall her. To her, Doomwing had been a force of nature, and his presence was synonymous with safety. Each time, he had feigned sleep, only opening those golden eyes of his when she was either about to try swimming across the lake or climbing up onto his snout.
He would not chide her for sneaking out. Instead, he would ask her if she had prepared appropriately. Had she put on the right shoes? Had she brought a cloak? Had she brought some way to defend herself? She had always huffed and pouted, insisting that she would be fine. As long as he was nearby, what did she have to fear? Nevertheless, she usually ended up following his advice, if only to stop him from badgering her.
Only later had she realised what he was trying to do. He would not always be there to protect her, but the habits he'd helped her develop would remain and they had saved her life on several occasions. But by then, she'd been much older, and he had no longer been around for her to thank.
It was much the same for the stories he told. As a girl, she'd found them captivating. Like Dreamsong, he was so very, very old. He had seen the best and worst the world could offer, and his stories were as much about far-off places and strange people as they were about familiar problems that were common across many groups throughout the Ages.
Yet there had been lessons in those stories too, and she had not understood all of them as a child. But he had known as he always seemed to that her inquisitive mind would never forget those stories, that she would hold them dear to her heart and look to them for comfort when the world grew cold and hope dimmed. Only then would she understand those other lessons, only then would she realise the wisdom a woman grown might gain from fanciful tales spun to amuse a little girl.
And as with his other advice, by the time she realised the value of what she'd been taught, he was no longer there for her to thank.
But he was here now, and warmth filled her heart as the familiar words of the story left his lips. She knew the story perfectly, for she had relived the memory of it countless times. She was older now, and she could see the great weariness within him that her younger self had always missed, the inescapable weight of Seven Ages that could wear down the strength of even the broadest shoulders.
But she saw the strength in him too, not the strength her younger self had envied the claws and teeth that could rend mountains, the flame that could burn the world, and the wings that could span the sky. No. She saw the true strength that dwelt within him, the strength that had let him weather all the long and broken years of the world, all the seasons of grief and loss that rolled one into the other until only an endless winter remained, so cold it could quench even a dragon's fire.
But not Doomwing's fire.
The fire within him would burn until the end of the world itself. It would waver at times. It would falter. He was not a god, no matter how powerful or wise he had become. But his fire would endure, a flame fed by the sacrifice of Seven Ages, a flame worthy of the greatest dragons of the First Age, those long-dead titans who had been mighty when even Doomwing himself had been small.
Against all the suffering and sorrows of the world, against all the storms of fate and chance, against the gathering shadows and the rising waters, still that flame would burn, a light in the darkness, a lonely voice challenging the world to do its worst, a mountain splendid and unyielding, a sapling grown into a tree that bent but never broke, rising up and up until at last it bridged the heavens and the earth.
When Doomwing finally finished the tale, Hikari closed her eyes and savoured the last of his words.
"When I was a girl, I thought the story was simply about two friends who were happy to see each other again after a long time."
"And what do you think now?" Doomwing asked.
"That there is more to the story." Hikari's mind drifted to other nights like this, to hours spent on the shore with a campfire burning, her parents on either side of her, and her friends arguing good naturedly about matters great and small. "The scholar and general were close friends, yet they disagreed on so many things."
"The scholar had no great love for war and wished for a world where it did not exist. The general felt most alive on the battlefield and longed for one last war to give him the death he desired a death of glory and honourable sacrifice before sickness and old age could rob him of his strength."
"And still they were good friends." Hikari smiled faintly. "I used to think that friends would always agree, but the older I got, the more I realised that wasn't true. A true friend need not agree with you on every matter. Indeed, I would like to believe that a true friend would be willing to tell me when they thought I was wrong and to offer wise counsel."
"And yet there are matters in which right and wrong are not so easy to define," Doomwing replied. His gaze weighed heavily upon her, and she felt almost like a little girl again, for what was the wisdom of a thousand years to someone who measured their life in Ages? "Matters of fact can often be settled easily, but matters of the heart, of conscience and philosophy, are rarely so simple." He stared across the water to the city. "I once asked your father what he would do if he came across a group of people who wished to cross the ocean in a ship that was no longer seaworthy. He said that he would offer them advice, and if they refused to take it, then he would stop them. He would protect them from themselves."
"You would not have done the same?" Hikari asked, already knowing the answer.
"No. If my advice was ignored, I would have left them to their fate. They were not sworn to me, nor were they my friends or allies. Whatever care I might have owed them was given when I offered my advice. If they wish to be fools and ignore it, then let their fate serve as a lesson to others. Ignorance, I have found, can be cured with knowledge, but no amount of wisdom can ever fix stupidity."
Hikari's lips curled. It was such an utterly draconic way to view things. And yet, she could understand his point of view. How many times must he have offered aid and advice only to be ignored by those who later beseeched him for help? He was not heartless, but he was no font of mercy and compassion. Even he could only do so much, so why not save his strength for those who actually heeded his advice and had the wisdom to do better in the future?
"My father was always so kind-hearted," Hikari said. "My mother loved that about him that he could be so strong and yet so gentle. Yet she also thought him hopelessly nave." Her gaze grew sombre. "If he had been a little more hard-hearted, then perhaps the strife that followed his death could have been averted."
"And yet, if he had been more hard-hearted, he would never have sought me out or given your mother a chance."
"It is possible to be friends despite seeing the world in very different ways," Hikari said. "That is one of the lessons of the story. Despite their different views, the scholar and the general still trusted and respected each other. They were friends not despite their differences, but"
"Because of them." Doomwing shifted, a mountain of red and blue scales reminiscent of an island at rest in the water. "Let me tell you another story then."Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)
"Is it one that I've heard before?"
"No. It is the story of a tiger-man who became a monk."
"A tiger-man?" Like kitsune, tiger-people were considered beast-people. However, unlike kitsune, tiger-people were far less able to blend in with humans. They had tiger heads and clawed hands and feet, and their bodies were covered in fur. They were often tall and powerfully built, and they had long held a reputation as fierce and uncompromising warriors.
"Long ago, in the Fifth Age, when the lands of the beast-people were at their mightiest, there were many warring kingdoms. Amongst them was a kingdom ruled by tiger-people. They were great warriors, and they looked upon the flourishing fields, bustling marketplaces, and rich mines of their neighbours and were filled with envy. Why should they, the greatest warriors in the land, not seize these things for themselves? To them, a person only deserved to have what they could seize and hold with their own hands. If their neighbours could not defend what was theirs, then they did not deserve to have it in the first place."
Doomwing gave a low rumble. "And so the tiger-people went to war. Their victories were swift and numerous, and their enemies fell before them like leaves falling from the trees in autumn. Revelling in their triumph, they forgot their honour. They slew those who had surrendered, cut down civilians without care, and even devoured their enemies to slake their ever-growing thirst for blood and power. But the actions of the tiger-people did not go unchallenged. Other kingdoms united against them, and a great coalition formed. Amongst them were other tiger-people from different kingdoms. They had not forgotten their honour, and they were disgusted by what their fellows had become. The alliance marched on the wicked tiger-people and crushed them in battle."
"The rulers of the wicked tiger-people were dragged from their palaces to be judged," Doomwing said. "The king, the queen, and all the princes and princesses were brought before a council of their enemies. They were sentenced to death, and even as they were taken to the fields of judgement to be slain and then left out for the vultures and crows to pick at, they refused to repent. Instead, they roared their defiance, swearing vengeance upon their enemies and calling on their people to rise up against their foes. Only one amongst them did not roar and thunder and curse. Instead, he wept."
"He wept?" Hikari asked. Tiger-people were famously brave, some would say to the point of stupidity. The kitsune rarely dealt with them, perhaps because of how much the kitsune favoured covert action and intrigue over brute force. "Was he a coward?"
"No. He was no coward. From the crowd, an old crow-man stepped forth. He was so old that his feathers had turned grey, and his once keen eyes were almost blind. He was the abbot of a monastery, and he asked the prince why he wept. Was he afraid? But the prince shook his head. He was not afraid. He was ashamed. He was ashamed that when his family and his people had given in to their madness and bloodlust, he had not spoken up. He had said nothing and had done nothing to stop them."
Hikari bit back a wince.
"The abbot pointed out that the prince was only one person. What could he have done? He was only the fifth prince. He would have been throw in prison, exiled, or killed for disobeying his father, and his people would have viewed him as a traitor. The prince replied that at least he would have kept his honour."
"What became of him?" Hikari asked. The worst cut close to home.
"Is that tree still around?" Hikari asked quietly.
"It survived the Fifth Catastrophe, but I have only been back to it once, and that was during the Sixth Age. There was a village there, built around the tree, and the flowers were all gone. But the villagers were smiling and happy, and the tree was ringed with charms. They believed it to be holy, for many who had fallen upon hard times had found safe haven and good fortune after coming to the village and praying beneath its boughs."
"Did he become a guardian spirit?" It was possible that some fragment of the monk's spirit remained.
"No. But there was a blessing upon the land. It was not there when I buried him, but it was there when I returned."
Hikari bowed her head. "Thank you for telling me about Brother Tiger."
"He loved to tell stories," Doomwing said. "He believed it made it easier for people to learn. Do you know why I told you?"
Hikari could think of several reasons. "I can see the parallels."
"You could not have stopped your mother. You were too young and too weak. She would have enslaved you like all the others. But you did not join us either."
"I did not." Hikari's fists clenched. "I wish I had been able to."
"She was your mother," Doomwing replied. "And your decision is one I can understand, even if it is not the one I would have made. Ask Dreamsong about it. Tell her that I permit you to know."
"Do you hate me?" Hikari asked. Even now, she did not fear Doomwing. Was that foolish? Perhaps. But there was a part of her that would always remember the security his presence provided, the absolute trust a silly, little girl had in a dragon who could have crushed her with less than a thought but who had never once harmed her.
"No." Doomwing stared at her. "Looking at you now, I understand the words the abbot spoke. Nothing I could ever say or do to you would ever cut more deeply than the regret you feel. What need have I to punish you when you are doing that yourself? Tell me, did Dreamsong speak truly of what you intend for the kitsune?"
She nodded fiercely. "I mean to bring them back into the world, but I have devoted everything I have to making them better. We are not the kitsune of the past. We come seeking friendship and cooperation. I mean to carry on my father's dream peace and prosperity. We would stand with others as equals, not rule over them as conquerors."
He stared at her and into her, and she knew she was being weighed and judged. "I am no monk. Mine is not a heart filled with mercy. Yet Brother Tiger was one of the finest friends I ever had, and it was mercy that allowed me to meet him. The abbot gave him another chance, and his faith was repaid in the end. I will give you and Dreamsong another chance." Doomwing bared his teeth. "But there will not be a third. I am a dragon, not an old, meddlesome crow-man."
Hikari felt some of the weight she had carried for so long slip off her shoulders. "Thank you."
"There is something I wish to give you. I would have given it to you long ago, but I was in no condition to give it, and you were not here to receive it."
The space beside Hikari shimmered, and something appeared. Her eyes widened, and she reached out, scarcely able to believe what she saw. It was a banner of green and gold, and upon it were a crossed sword and ploughshare.
"This is"
"The King's Banner the banner of High King Elerion." Doomwing's voice grew wistful. "You never met her, but his mother was a skilled seamstress. When he was first crowned king, he asked her to make it for him, and it was carried into every battle he fought thereafter."
"Uncle Valerius carried it," Hikari whispered. "Father asked him to retire, but he insisted, saying he would carry it until he was no longer able."
"Yes. He was one of your father's oldest friends and a cobbler's son. Before your father became king, Valerius would often accompany him on his adventures. When your father became king, he asked Valerius to carry it because there was no one he trusted more to ride at his side."
"I thought it lost," Hikari murmured. "I was there at the end of the battle. I could not bring myself to approach you or Uncle Marcus, but I saw my father, and the banner was not with him."
"Valerius was amongst the last of your father's men to fall. By then your father was blinded, and his sword and armour were already broken. Valerius held the banner high until he too was felled, and when he fell, it was trampled into the muck and blood by the enemy. Your father fought to reach the last place he had heard Valerius's voice, hoping against all hope that his old friend was merely wounded and not dead. But never again would he hear Valerius's voice, and it was there that he fought, at the side of his dead friend and his trampled banner, until he met his own death."
Tears prickled at the corners of Hikari's eyes. She should have fought at her father's side. She would likely have died, but still, would that have been such a bad death? But she had stood by and done nothing. Leading the kitsune properly was the only atonement she could make.
"I was in no state to retrieve it afterward, and neither was Marcus. Later, it became difficult to find because the whole battlefield became a scar upon the world, one that has yet to fade. Yet Marcus eventually retrieved it. It was in a wretched stated, but I was able to restore it. I had considered returning it to one of your father's descendants, but from what little I learned in my moments of waking, none of them were worthy of it. Yet I am awake now, and you are here the last of my old friend's children."
"I"
"Take it," Doomwing said. "It is yours by right, but remember this it was your father's strength that made the kingdoms kneel, but it was his dream that inspired them to follow. You have the strength to rule the kitsune. Make sure that it is a worthy dream they follow, not a nightmare."
Hikari took the banner and held it to her chest. She had seen it so many times before. Her father had even allowed her to hold it a few times. How valiant he had looked in his armour and upon his horse with his banner flying high beside him. He had seemed utterly invincible, as if he could face all the evils of the world and drive them off. The banner was back in her hands again, and a sense of loss swept over her. Her father was no longer there to offer his advice, comfort or praise. He was dead but his dream could still live.
She looked at Doomwing. This was a gift and a warning, a promise and a plea. The words came to her, and it felt right to speak them. "I swear it. So many dreams were broken at the end of the Sixth Age. Never again."
She raised the banner high, and the breeze caught it. For a moment, she was a little girl again, and anything in the world was possible. The moment passed, and yet the feeling lingered. If a farmer's son could become a king, then who was to say they could not find a brighter future?
Her mother had tried to seize that future, and she had been willing to bind the world to her will to do so. But her father had tried to lead the way in the hope that others would follow. Her mother had always said that Hikari was a lot like her father. Hikari had led the kitsune this far. They were good people. She knew it. She just had to give them an example to follow.
"Doomwing," she said. "I would like to meet with your followers."
"What did you have in mind?"
"If my kitsune are to help the people of this world, then it's about time they had a chance to meet them."
"I see." Doomwing nodded. "Very well." His lips curled. "You should probably make time for Marcus too. He will no doubt sulk if you spend all of your time around me."
She chuckled. "He accused me of favouritism many times."
"He was right to do so. I was, by far, the most favoured of your many uncles."
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Chapter 36: The Dragon Tells A Story
Hikari had almost forgotten how it felt to hear Doomwing tell a story. As a little girl, she had often badgered him for tales. Dreamsong had told her stories too, of course, but Doomwing had known different stories, and Hikari had wanted to hear as many as she could. More than once, she had snuck out of her chambers and made her way to where the dragon rested, which was usually in the lake or the nearby countryside.
Never once had she worried that some misfortune might befall her. To her, Doomwing had been a force of nature, and his presence was synonymous with safety. Each time, he had feigned sleep, only opening those golden eyes of his when she was either about to try swimming across the lake or climbing up onto his snout.
He would not chide her for sneaking out. Instead, he would ask her if she had prepared appropriately. Had she put on the right shoes? Had she brought a cloak? Had she brought some way to defend herself? She had always huffed and pouted, insisting that she would be fine. As long as he was nearby, what did she have to fear? Nevertheless, she usually ended up following his advice, if only to stop him from badgering her.
Only later had she realised what he was trying to do. He would not always be there to protect her, but the habits he'd helped her develop would remain and they had saved her life on several occasions. But by then, she'd been much older, and he had no longer been around for her to thank.
It was much the same for the stories he told. As a girl, she'd found them captivating. Like Dreamsong, he was so very, very old. He had seen the best and worst the world could offer, and his stories were as much about far-off places and strange people as they were about familiar problems that were common across many groups throughout the Ages.
Yet there had been lessons in those stories too, and she had not understood all of them as a child. But he had known as he always seemed to that her inquisitive mind would never forget those stories, that she would hold them dear to her heart and look to them for comfort when the world grew cold and hope dimmed. Only then would she understand those other lessons, only then would she realise the wisdom a woman grown might gain from fanciful tales spun to amuse a little girl.
And as with his other advice, by the time she realised the value of what she'd been taught, he was no longer there for her to thank.
But he was here now, and warmth filled her heart as the familiar words of the story left his lips. She knew the story perfectly, for she had relived the memory of it countless times. She was older now, and she could see the great weariness within him that her younger self had always missed, the inescapable weight of Seven Ages that could wear down the strength of even the broadest shoulders.
But she saw the strength in him too, not the strength her younger self had envied the claws and teeth that could rend mountains, the flame that could burn the world, and the wings that could span the sky. No. She saw the true strength that dwelt within him, the strength that had let him weather all the long and broken years of the world, all the seasons of grief and loss that rolled one into the other until only an endless winter remained, so cold it could quench even a dragon's fire.
But not Doomwing's fire.
The fire within him would burn until the end of the world itself. It would waver at times. It would falter. He was not a god, no matter how powerful or wise he had become. But his fire would endure, a flame fed by the sacrifice of Seven Ages, a flame worthy of the greatest dragons of the First Age, those long-dead titans who had been mighty when even Doomwing himself had been small.
Against all the suffering and sorrows of the world, against all the storms of fate and chance, against the gathering shadows and the rising waters, still that flame would burn, a light in the darkness, a lonely voice challenging the world to do its worst, a mountain splendid and unyielding, a sapling grown into a tree that bent but never broke, rising up and up until at last it bridged the heavens and the earth.
When Doomwing finally finished the tale, Hikari closed her eyes and savoured the last of his words.
"When I was a girl, I thought the story was simply about two friends who were happy to see each other again after a long time."
"And what do you think now?" Doomwing asked.
"That there is more to the story." Hikari's mind drifted to other nights like this, to hours spent on the shore with a campfire burning, her parents on either side of her, and her friends arguing good naturedly about matters great and small. "The scholar and general were close friends, yet they disagreed on so many things."
"The scholar had no great love for war and wished for a world where it did not exist. The general felt most alive on the battlefield and longed for one last war to give him the death he desired a death of glory and honourable sacrifice before sickness and old age could rob him of his strength."
"And still they were good friends." Hikari smiled faintly. "I used to think that friends would always agree, but the older I got, the more I realised that wasn't true. A true friend need not agree with you on every matter. Indeed, I would like to believe that a true friend would be willing to tell me when they thought I was wrong and to offer wise counsel."
"And yet there are matters in which right and wrong are not so easy to define," Doomwing replied. His gaze weighed heavily upon her, and she felt almost like a little girl again, for what was the wisdom of a thousand years to someone who measured their life in Ages? "Matters of fact can often be settled easily, but matters of the heart, of conscience and philosophy, are rarely so simple." He stared across the water to the city. "I once asked your father what he would do if he came across a group of people who wished to cross the ocean in a ship that was no longer seaworthy. He said that he would offer them advice, and if they refused to take it, then he would stop them. He would protect them from themselves."
"You would not have done the same?" Hikari asked, already knowing the answer.
"No. If my advice was ignored, I would have left them to their fate. They were not sworn to me, nor were they my friends or allies. Whatever care I might have owed them was given when I offered my advice. If they wish to be fools and ignore it, then let their fate serve as a lesson to others. Ignorance, I have found, can be cured with knowledge, but no amount of wisdom can ever fix stupidity."
Hikari's lips curled. It was such an utterly draconic way to view things. And yet, she could understand his point of view. How many times must he have offered aid and advice only to be ignored by those who later beseeched him for help? He was not heartless, but he was no font of mercy and compassion. Even he could only do so much, so why not save his strength for those who actually heeded his advice and had the wisdom to do better in the future?
"My father was always so kind-hearted," Hikari said. "My mother loved that about him that he could be so strong and yet so gentle. Yet she also thought him hopelessly nave." Her gaze grew sombre. "If he had been a little more hard-hearted, then perhaps the strife that followed his death could have been averted."
"And yet, if he had been more hard-hearted, he would never have sought me out or given your mother a chance."
"It is possible to be friends despite seeing the world in very different ways," Hikari said. "That is one of the lessons of the story. Despite their different views, the scholar and the general still trusted and respected each other. They were friends not despite their differences, but"
"Because of them." Doomwing shifted, a mountain of red and blue scales reminiscent of an island at rest in the water. "Let me tell you another story then."Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)
"Is it one that I've heard before?"
"No. It is the story of a tiger-man who became a monk."
"A tiger-man?" Like kitsune, tiger-people were considered beast-people. However, unlike kitsune, tiger-people were far less able to blend in with humans. They had tiger heads and clawed hands and feet, and their bodies were covered in fur. They were often tall and powerfully built, and they had long held a reputation as fierce and uncompromising warriors.
"Long ago, in the Fifth Age, when the lands of the beast-people were at their mightiest, there were many warring kingdoms. Amongst them was a kingdom ruled by tiger-people. They were great warriors, and they looked upon the flourishing fields, bustling marketplaces, and rich mines of their neighbours and were filled with envy. Why should they, the greatest warriors in the land, not seize these things for themselves? To them, a person only deserved to have what they could seize and hold with their own hands. If their neighbours could not defend what was theirs, then they did not deserve to have it in the first place."
Doomwing gave a low rumble. "And so the tiger-people went to war. Their victories were swift and numerous, and their enemies fell before them like leaves falling from the trees in autumn. Revelling in their triumph, they forgot their honour. They slew those who had surrendered, cut down civilians without care, and even devoured their enemies to slake their ever-growing thirst for blood and power. But the actions of the tiger-people did not go unchallenged. Other kingdoms united against them, and a great coalition formed. Amongst them were other tiger-people from different kingdoms. They had not forgotten their honour, and they were disgusted by what their fellows had become. The alliance marched on the wicked tiger-people and crushed them in battle."
"The rulers of the wicked tiger-people were dragged from their palaces to be judged," Doomwing said. "The king, the queen, and all the princes and princesses were brought before a council of their enemies. They were sentenced to death, and even as they were taken to the fields of judgement to be slain and then left out for the vultures and crows to pick at, they refused to repent. Instead, they roared their defiance, swearing vengeance upon their enemies and calling on their people to rise up against their foes. Only one amongst them did not roar and thunder and curse. Instead, he wept."
"He wept?" Hikari asked. Tiger-people were famously brave, some would say to the point of stupidity. The kitsune rarely dealt with them, perhaps because of how much the kitsune favoured covert action and intrigue over brute force. "Was he a coward?"
"No. He was no coward. From the crowd, an old crow-man stepped forth. He was so old that his feathers had turned grey, and his once keen eyes were almost blind. He was the abbot of a monastery, and he asked the prince why he wept. Was he afraid? But the prince shook his head. He was not afraid. He was ashamed. He was ashamed that when his family and his people had given in to their madness and bloodlust, he had not spoken up. He had said nothing and had done nothing to stop them."
Hikari bit back a wince.
"The abbot pointed out that the prince was only one person. What could he have done? He was only the fifth prince. He would have been throw in prison, exiled, or killed for disobeying his father, and his people would have viewed him as a traitor. The prince replied that at least he would have kept his honour."
"What became of him?" Hikari asked. The worst cut close to home.
"Is that tree still around?" Hikari asked quietly.
"It survived the Fifth Catastrophe, but I have only been back to it once, and that was during the Sixth Age. There was a village there, built around the tree, and the flowers were all gone. But the villagers were smiling and happy, and the tree was ringed with charms. They believed it to be holy, for many who had fallen upon hard times had found safe haven and good fortune after coming to the village and praying beneath its boughs."
"Did he become a guardian spirit?" It was possible that some fragment of the monk's spirit remained.
"No. But there was a blessing upon the land. It was not there when I buried him, but it was there when I returned."
Hikari bowed her head. "Thank you for telling me about Brother Tiger."
"He loved to tell stories," Doomwing said. "He believed it made it easier for people to learn. Do you know why I told you?"
Hikari could think of several reasons. "I can see the parallels."
"You could not have stopped your mother. You were too young and too weak. She would have enslaved you like all the others. But you did not join us either."
"I did not." Hikari's fists clenched. "I wish I had been able to."
"She was your mother," Doomwing replied. "And your decision is one I can understand, even if it is not the one I would have made. Ask Dreamsong about it. Tell her that I permit you to know."
"Do you hate me?" Hikari asked. Even now, she did not fear Doomwing. Was that foolish? Perhaps. But there was a part of her that would always remember the security his presence provided, the absolute trust a silly, little girl had in a dragon who could have crushed her with less than a thought but who had never once harmed her.
"No." Doomwing stared at her. "Looking at you now, I understand the words the abbot spoke. Nothing I could ever say or do to you would ever cut more deeply than the regret you feel. What need have I to punish you when you are doing that yourself? Tell me, did Dreamsong speak truly of what you intend for the kitsune?"
She nodded fiercely. "I mean to bring them back into the world, but I have devoted everything I have to making them better. We are not the kitsune of the past. We come seeking friendship and cooperation. I mean to carry on my father's dream peace and prosperity. We would stand with others as equals, not rule over them as conquerors."
He stared at her and into her, and she knew she was being weighed and judged. "I am no monk. Mine is not a heart filled with mercy. Yet Brother Tiger was one of the finest friends I ever had, and it was mercy that allowed me to meet him. The abbot gave him another chance, and his faith was repaid in the end. I will give you and Dreamsong another chance." Doomwing bared his teeth. "But there will not be a third. I am a dragon, not an old, meddlesome crow-man."
Hikari felt some of the weight she had carried for so long slip off her shoulders. "Thank you."
"There is something I wish to give you. I would have given it to you long ago, but I was in no condition to give it, and you were not here to receive it."
The space beside Hikari shimmered, and something appeared. Her eyes widened, and she reached out, scarcely able to believe what she saw. It was a banner of green and gold, and upon it were a crossed sword and ploughshare.
"This is"
"The King's Banner the banner of High King Elerion." Doomwing's voice grew wistful. "You never met her, but his mother was a skilled seamstress. When he was first crowned king, he asked her to make it for him, and it was carried into every battle he fought thereafter."
"Uncle Valerius carried it," Hikari whispered. "Father asked him to retire, but he insisted, saying he would carry it until he was no longer able."
"Yes. He was one of your father's oldest friends and a cobbler's son. Before your father became king, Valerius would often accompany him on his adventures. When your father became king, he asked Valerius to carry it because there was no one he trusted more to ride at his side."
"I thought it lost," Hikari murmured. "I was there at the end of the battle. I could not bring myself to approach you or Uncle Marcus, but I saw my father, and the banner was not with him."
"Valerius was amongst the last of your father's men to fall. By then your father was blinded, and his sword and armour were already broken. Valerius held the banner high until he too was felled, and when he fell, it was trampled into the muck and blood by the enemy. Your father fought to reach the last place he had heard Valerius's voice, hoping against all hope that his old friend was merely wounded and not dead. But never again would he hear Valerius's voice, and it was there that he fought, at the side of his dead friend and his trampled banner, until he met his own death."
Tears prickled at the corners of Hikari's eyes. She should have fought at her father's side. She would likely have died, but still, would that have been such a bad death? But she had stood by and done nothing. Leading the kitsune properly was the only atonement she could make.
"I was in no state to retrieve it afterward, and neither was Marcus. Later, it became difficult to find because the whole battlefield became a scar upon the world, one that has yet to fade. Yet Marcus eventually retrieved it. It was in a wretched stated, but I was able to restore it. I had considered returning it to one of your father's descendants, but from what little I learned in my moments of waking, none of them were worthy of it. Yet I am awake now, and you are here the last of my old friend's children."
"I"
"Take it," Doomwing said. "It is yours by right, but remember this it was your father's strength that made the kingdoms kneel, but it was his dream that inspired them to follow. You have the strength to rule the kitsune. Make sure that it is a worthy dream they follow, not a nightmare."
Hikari took the banner and held it to her chest. She had seen it so many times before. Her father had even allowed her to hold it a few times. How valiant he had looked in his armour and upon his horse with his banner flying high beside him. He had seemed utterly invincible, as if he could face all the evils of the world and drive them off. The banner was back in her hands again, and a sense of loss swept over her. Her father was no longer there to offer his advice, comfort or praise. He was dead but his dream could still live.
She looked at Doomwing. This was a gift and a warning, a promise and a plea. The words came to her, and it felt right to speak them. "I swear it. So many dreams were broken at the end of the Sixth Age. Never again."
She raised the banner high, and the breeze caught it. For a moment, she was a little girl again, and anything in the world was possible. The moment passed, and yet the feeling lingered. If a farmer's son could become a king, then who was to say they could not find a brighter future?
Her mother had tried to seize that future, and she had been willing to bind the world to her will to do so. But her father had tried to lead the way in the hope that others would follow. Her mother had always said that Hikari was a lot like her father. Hikari had led the kitsune this far. They were good people. She knew it. She just had to give them an example to follow.
"Doomwing," she said. "I would like to meet with your followers."
"What did you have in mind?"
"If my kitsune are to help the people of this world, then it's about time they had a chance to meet them."
"I see." Doomwing nodded. "Very well." His lips curled. "You should probably make time for Marcus too. He will no doubt sulk if you spend all of your time around me."
She chuckled. "He accused me of favouritism many times."
"He was right to do so. I was, by far, the most favoured of your many uncles."
Chapter 36: The Dragon Tells A StoryHikari had almost forgotten how it felt to hear Doomwing tell a story. As a little girl, she had often badgered him for tales. Dreamsong had told her stories too, of course, but Doomwing had known different stories, and Hikari had wanted to hear as many as she could. More than once, she had snuck out of her chambers and made her way to where the dragon rested, which was usually in the lake or the nearby countryside.Never once had she worried that some misfortune might befall her. To her, Doomwing had been a force of nature, and his presence was synonymous with safety. Each time, he had feigned sleep, only opening those golden eyes of his when she was either about to try swimming across the lake or climbing up onto his snout.He would not chide her for sneaking out. Instead, he would ask her if she had prepared appropriately. Had she put on the right shoes? Had she brought a cloak? Had she brought some way to defend herself? She had always huffed and pouted, insisting that she would be fine. As long as he was nearby, what did she have to fear? Nevertheless, she usually ended up following his advice, if only to stop him from badgering her.Only later had she realised what he was trying to do. He would not always be there to protect her, but the habits he'd helped her develop would remain and they had saved her life on several occasions. But by then, she'd been much older, and he had no longer been around for her to thank.It was much the same for the stories he told. As a girl, she'd found them captivating. Like Dreamsong, he was so very, very old. He had seen the best and worst the world could offer, and his stories were as much about far-off places and strange people as they were about familiar problems that were common across many groups throughout the Ages.Yet there had been lessons in those stories too, and she had not understood all of them as a child. But he had known as he always seemed to that her inquisitive mind would never forget those stories, that she would hold them dear to her heart and look to them for comfort when the world grew cold and hope dimmed. Only then would she understand those other lessons, only then would she realise the wisdom a woman grown might gain from fanciful tales spun to amuse a little girl.And as with his other advice, by the time she realised the value of what she'd been taught, he was no longer there for her to thank.But he was here now, and warmth filled her heart as the familiar words of the story left his lips. She knew the story perfectly, for she had relived the memory of it countless times. She was older now, and she could see the great weariness within him that her younger self had always missed, the inescapable weight of Seven Ages that could wear down the strength of even the broadest shoulders.But she saw the strength in him too, not the strength her younger self had envied the claws and teeth that could rend mountains, the flame that could burn the world, and the wings that could span the sky. No. She saw the true strength that dwelt within him, the strength that had let him weather all the long and broken years of the world, all the seasons of grief and loss that rolled one into the other until only an endless winter remained, so cold it could quench even a dragon's fire.But not Doomwing's fire.The fire within him would burn until the end of the world itself. It would waver at times. It would falter. He was not a god, no matter how powerful or wise he had become. But his fire would endure, a flame fed by the sacrifice of Seven Ages, a flame worthy of the greatest dragons of the First Age, those long-dead titans who had been mighty when even Doomwing himself had been small.Against all the suffering and sorrows of the world, against all the storms of fate and chance, against the gathering shadows and the rising waters, still that flame would burn, a light in the darkness, a lonely voice challenging the world to do its worst, a mountain splendid and unyielding, a sapling grown into a tree that bent but never broke, rising up and up until at last it bridged the heavens and the earth.When Doomwing finally finished the tale, Hikari closed her eyes and savoured the last of his words."When I was a girl, I thought the story was simply about two friends who were happy to see each other again after a long time.""And what do you think now?" Doomwing asked."That there is more to the story." Hikari's mind drifted to other nights like this, to hours spent on the shore with a campfire burning, her parents on either side of her, and her friends arguing good naturedly about matters great and small. "The scholar and general were close friends, yet they disagreed on so many things.""The scholar had no great love for war and wished for a world where it did not exist. The general felt most alive on the battlefield and longed for one last war to give him the death he desired a death of glory and honourable sacrifice before sickness and old age could rob him of his strength.""And still they were good friends." Hikari smiled faintly. "I used to think that friends would always agree, but the older I got, the more I realised that wasn't true. A true friend need not agree with you on every matter. Indeed, I would like to believe that a true friend would be willing to tell me when they thought I was wrong and to offer wise counsel.""And yet there are matters in which right and wrong are not so easy to define," Doomwing replied. His gaze weighed heavily upon her, and she felt almost like a little girl again, for what was the wisdom of a thousand years to someone who measured their life in Ages? "Matters of fact can often be settled easily, but matters of the heart, of conscience and philosophy, are rarely so simple." He stared across the water to the city. "I once asked your father what he would do if he came across a group of people who wished to cross the ocean in a ship that was no longer seaworthy. He said that he would offer them advice, and if they refused to take it, then he would stop them. He would protect them from themselves.""You would not have done the same?" Hikari asked, already knowing the answer."No. If my advice was ignored, I would have left them to their fate. They were not sworn to me, nor were they my friends or allies. Whatever care I might have owed them was given when I offered my advice. If they wish to be fools and ignore it, then let their fate serve as a lesson to others. Ignorance, I have found, can be cured with knowledge, but no amount of wisdom can ever fix stupidity."Hikari's lips curled. It was such an utterly draconic way to view things. And yet, she could understand his point of view. How many times must he have offered aid and advice only to be ignored by those who later beseeched him for help? He was not heartless, but he was no font of mercy and compassion. Even he could only do so much, so why not save his strength for those who actually heeded his advice and had the wisdom to do better in the future?"My father was always so kind-hearted," Hikari said. "My mother loved that about him that he could be so strong and yet so gentle. Yet she also thought him hopelessly nave." Her gaze grew sombre. "If he had been a little more hard-hearted, then perhaps the strife that followed his death could have been averted.""And yet, if he had been more hard-hearted, he would never have sought me out or given your mother a chance.""It is possible to be friends despite seeing the world in very different ways," Hikari said. "That is one of the lessons of the story. Despite their different views, the scholar and the general still trusted and respected each other. They were friends not despite their differences, but""Because of them." Doomwing shifted, a mountain of red and blue scales reminiscent of an island at rest in the water. "Let me tell you another story then."Follow current novels on novelbin.com"Is it one that I've heard before?""No. It is the story of a tiger-man who became a monk.""A tiger-man?" Like kitsune, tiger-people were considered beast-people. However, unlike kitsune, tiger-people were far less able to blend in with humans. They had tiger heads and clawed hands and feet, and their bodies were covered in fur. They were often tall and powerfully built, and they had long held a reputation as fierce and uncompromising warriors."Long ago, in the Fifth Age, when the lands of the beast-people were at their mightiest, there were many warring kingdoms. Amongst them was a kingdom ruled by tiger-people. They were great warriors, and they looked upon the flourishing fields, bustling marketplaces, and rich mines of their neighbours and were filled with envy. Why should they, the greatest warriors in the land, not seize these things for themselves? To them, a person only deserved to have what they could seize and hold with their own hands. If their neighbours could not defend what was theirs, then they did not deserve to have it in the first place."Doomwing gave a low rumble. "And so the tiger-people went to war. Their victories were swift and numerous, and their enemies fell before them like leaves falling from the trees in autumn. Revelling in their triumph, they forgot their honour. They slew those who had surrendered, cut down civilians without care, and even devoured their enemies to slake their ever-growing thirst for blood and power. But the actions of the tiger-people did not go unchallenged. Other kingdoms united against them, and a great coalition formed. Amongst them were other tiger-people from different kingdoms. They had not forgotten their honour, and they were disgusted by what their fellows had become. The alliance marched on the wicked tiger-people and crushed them in battle.""The rulers of the wicked tiger-people were dragged from their palaces to be judged," Doomwing said. "The king, the queen, and all the princes and princesses were brought before a council of their enemies. They were sentenced to death, and even as they were taken to the fields of judgement to be slain and then left out for the vultures and crows to pick at, they refused to repent. Instead, they roared their defiance, swearing vengeance upon their enemies and calling on their people to rise up against their foes. Only one amongst them did not roar and thunder and curse. Instead, he wept.""He wept?" Hikari asked. Tiger-people were famously brave, some would say to the point of stupidity. The kitsune rarely dealt with them, perhaps because of how much the kitsune favoured covert action and intrigue over brute force. "Was he a coward?""No. He was no coward. From the crowd, an old crow-man stepped forth. He was so old that his feathers had turned grey, and his once keen eyes were almost blind. He was the abbot of a monastery, and he asked the prince why he wept. Was he afraid? But the prince shook his head. He was not afraid. He was ashamed. He was ashamed that when his family and his people had given in to their madness and bloodlust, he had not spoken up. He had said nothing and had done nothing to stop them."Hikari bit back a wince."The abbot pointed out that the prince was only one person. What could he have done? He was only the fifth prince. He would have been throw in prison, exiled, or killed for disobeying his father, and his people would have viewed him as a traitor. The prince replied that at least he would have kept his honour.""What became of him?" Hikari asked. The worst cut close to home."Is that tree still around?" Hikari asked quietly."It survived the Fifth Catastrophe, but I have only been back to it once, and that was during the Sixth Age. There was a village there, built around the tree, and the flowers were all gone. But the villagers were smiling and happy, and the tree was ringed with charms. They believed it to be holy, for many who had fallen upon hard times had found safe haven and good fortune after coming to the village and praying beneath its boughs.""Did he become a guardian spirit?" It was possible that some fragment of the monk's spirit remained."No. But there was a blessing upon the land. It was not there when I buried him, but it was there when I returned." Hikari bowed her head. "Thank you for telling me about Brother Tiger.""He loved to tell stories," Doomwing said. "He believed it made it easier for people to learn. Do you know why I told you?"Hikari could think of several reasons. "I can see the parallels.""You could not have stopped your mother. You were too young and too weak. She would have enslaved you like all the others. But you did not join us either.""I did not." Hikari's fists clenched. "I wish I had been able to.""She was your mother," Doomwing replied. "And your decision is one I can understand, even if it is not the one I would have made. Ask Dreamsong about it. Tell her that I permit you to know.""Do you hate me?" Hikari asked. Even now, she did not fear Doomwing. Was that foolish? Perhaps. But there was a part of her that would always remember the security his presence provided, the absolute trust a silly, little girl had in a dragon who could have crushed her with less than a thought but who had never once harmed her."No." Doomwing stared at her. "Looking at you now, I understand the words the abbot spoke. Nothing I could ever say or do to you would ever cut more deeply than the regret you feel. What need have I to punish you when you are doing that yourself? Tell me, did Dreamsong speak truly of what you intend for the kitsune?"She nodded fiercely. "I mean to bring them back into the world, but I have devoted everything I have to making them better. We are not the kitsune of the past. We come seeking friendship and cooperation. I mean to carry on my father's dream peace and prosperity. We would stand with others as equals, not rule over them as conquerors."He stared at her and into her, and she knew she was being weighed and judged. "I am no monk. Mine is not a heart filled with mercy. Yet Brother Tiger was one of the finest friends I ever had, and it was mercy that allowed me to meet him. The abbot gave him another chance, and his faith was repaid in the end. I will give you and Dreamsong another chance." Doomwing bared his teeth. "But there will not be a third. I am a dragon, not an old, meddlesome crow-man."Hikari felt some of the weight she had carried for so long slip off her shoulders. "Thank you.""There is something I wish to give you. I would have given it to you long ago, but I was in no condition to give it, and you were not here to receive it."The space beside Hikari shimmered, and something appeared. Her eyes widened, and she reached out, scarcely able to believe what she saw. It was a banner of green and gold, and upon it were a crossed sword and ploughshare."This is""The King's Banner the banner of High King Elerion." Doomwing's voice grew wistful. "You never met her, but his mother was a skilled seamstress. When he was first crowned king, he asked her to make it for him, and it was carried into every battle he fought thereafter.""Uncle Valerius carried it," Hikari whispered. "Father asked him to retire, but he insisted, saying he would carry it until he was no longer able.""Yes. He was one of your father's oldest friends and a cobbler's son. Before your father became king, Valerius would often accompany him on his adventures. When your father became king, he asked Valerius to carry it because there was no one he trusted more to ride at his side.""I thought it lost," Hikari murmured. "I was there at the end of the battle. I could not bring myself to approach you or Uncle Marcus, but I saw my father, and the banner was not with him.""Valerius was amongst the last of your father's men to fall. By then your father was blinded, and his sword and armour were already broken. Valerius held the banner high until he too was felled, and when he fell, it was trampled into the muck and blood by the enemy. Your father fought to reach the last place he had heard Valerius's voice, hoping against all hope that his old friend was merely wounded and not dead. But never again would he hear Valerius's voice, and it was there that he fought, at the side of his dead friend and his trampled banner, until he met his own death."Tears prickled at the corners of Hikari's eyes. She should have fought at her father's side. She would likely have died, but still, would that have been such a bad death? But she had stood by and done nothing. Leading the kitsune properly was the only atonement she could make."I was in no state to retrieve it afterward, and neither was Marcus. Later, it became difficult to find because the whole battlefield became a scar upon the world, one that has yet to fade. Yet Marcus eventually retrieved it. It was in a wretched stated, but I was able to restore it. I had considered returning it to one of your father's descendants, but from what little I learned in my moments of waking, none of them were worthy of it. Yet I am awake now, and you are here the last of my old friend's children.""I""Take it," Doomwing said. "It is yours by right, but remember this it was your father's strength that made the kingdoms kneel, but it was his dream that inspired them to follow. You have the strength to rule the kitsune. Make sure that it is a worthy dream they follow, not a nightmare."Hikari took the banner and held it to her chest. She had seen it so many times before. Her father had even allowed her to hold it a few times. How valiant he had looked in his armour and upon his horse with his banner flying high beside him. He had seemed utterly invincible, as if he could face all the evils of the world and drive them off. The banner was back in her hands again, and a sense of loss swept over her. Her father was no longer there to offer his advice, comfort or praise. He was dead but his dream could still live.She looked at Doomwing. This was a gift and a warning, a promise and a plea. The words came to her, and it felt right to speak them. "I swear it. So many dreams were broken at the end of the Sixth Age. Never again."She raised the banner high, and the breeze caught it. For a moment, she was a little girl again, and anything in the world was possible. The moment passed, and yet the feeling lingered. If a farmer's son could become a king, then who was to say they could not find a brighter future?Her mother had tried to seize that future, and she had been willing to bind the world to her will to do so. But her father had tried to lead the way in the hope that others would follow. Her mother had always said that Hikari was a lot like her father. Hikari had led the kitsune this far. They were good people. She knew it. She just had to give them an example to follow."Doomwing," she said. "I would like to meet with your followers.""What did you have in mind?""If my kitsune are to help the people of this world, then it's about time they had a chance to meet them.""I see." Doomwing nodded. "Very well." His lips curled. "You should probably make time for Marcus too. He will no doubt sulk if you spend all of your time around me."She chuckled. "He accused me of favouritism many times.""He was right to do so. I was, by far, the most favoured of your many uncles."
