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Chapter Forty Six

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Mirelle read as much as she could while the light allowed. Though reading on gryphon-back was difficult, it helped distract her from the flight. She forced herself to focus on the text, to push the world beyond the story to the side for a little while. To her surprise, the goggles helped. Not only did they protect her eyes from the wind, but they blocked out the edges of her vision. That made it easier to pretend the earth wasn't sliding by so very far below. Kurekka proved a smooth flier, and faster even than she'd expected. She found herself hunkering down over the back of his neck to protect the book from the wind that whipped across them, rustling feathers all around her.

The sunset's orange and pink radiance soon faded to its last lilac throes. By then there was scarcely enough light left to make out the words. She squinted, flipping through the pages, trying to get a better idea of how this book differed from the first one. Before long it was too dark to read any further. Mirelle closed the book and put a hand on it for safe keeping.

As night settled in, she was even more thankful for the cloak and goggles Enora provided her. Once the sun set, the wind at altitude went from chilly to biting. She wrapped the cloak around herself to try and stay warm, and buried cold hands into the feathers on the back of Kurekka's neck. He didn't seem to mind. In the far distance, the moon peeked above the horizon, a silver sliver casting pale white light across the marsh. The waters below them glimmered with mercurial radiance.

Without the tome to distract her, Mirelle's thoughts drifted. She scowled, furrowing her brow. Just what did Asterbury want with Revaramek? She hoped that little monster hadn't hurt the dragon. Part of her was terrified that Revaramek was going to get himself killed trying to stop Asterbury from doing…Damn it, she didn't even know what that bastard was doing. They were all assuming the old man he mentioned was Jekk. Mirelle's frown deepened. That probably meant Jekk was dead. She'd never liked the bitter old man, but she didn't want to see him murdered, either.

Knowing Revaramek, as soon as he was free, he'd probably announce himself the hero of the story and set out to slay Asterbury once and for all. Wouldn't that be just like him. And then…Asterbury would age him into a decrepit old beast, or break his legs or carve out his eyes or….Mirelle swallowed as a shudder rolled through her. She had to stop thinking like that. Now that the rum Enora gave her wasn't burning a hole in her stomach, she wanted another drink of it. At least Revaramek had proven he could actually wound Asterbury, unlike seemingly everyone else. Hell, if he could do before, why couldn't he do it again? Gods, if she made it home and found out that Revaramek had killed Asterbury and saved the day without her, she'd never hear the end of it.

“Remember that time I killed the villain and saved the story, Mirelle?" She tried to adopt a voice that was deep and gruff, yet filled with childlike wonder. “That's why I'm the hero and you're just the sidekick! You see, sidekick means…" She trailed off, allowing herself a laugh.

Damn it. Much as she hated to admit it, she really missed that scaly brat.

“You say something?" Kurekka glanced back at her, feathers ruffling in the wind.

Mirelle shook her head with another incredulous laugh. “Just practicing my Revaramek impression."

“I'm sure he'll be glad to hear it." The gryphon turned his gaze back to the horizon. “I'll bet he's got an impression of you, too."

Mirelle huddled under her cloak, smiling at the thought. “I suspect his entire impression of me is, shut up dragon, look at my boots!"

“That sounds very accurate." Kurekka tipped his head and gave a loud, keening cry. A response echoed across the marsh behind them. “We're landing soon to get some rest for the night!"

Mirelle grit her teeth. She hadn't expected them to reach Revaramek in one night, but it was still frustrating. What if he was hurt? What if he needed her help, and they were busy sleeping? Still, none of them would be any good to him if the gryphons flew themselves until they crashed.

Kurekka circled a few times to give Chir'raal a chance to catch up before he banked into a descending spiral. Mirelle clutched the gryphon tighter and made sure she wasn't going to lose the book as he came in for a landing. The motion left her stomach trying to somersault out of her body. The gryphon touched on a low, grassy rise dotted with a few old trees. As soon as he'd come to a stop, Mirelle hopped off his back and untied her safety rope. She stumbled a few steps, then bent forward, hands braced on her knees.

“Not going to vomit, are you?"

Mirelle took a few deep breaths. Her stomach settled, and she straightened up. “No…getting used to it, I think."

“Probably because I'm an exceptional flier." Kurekka lifted a paw and prodded at the knots of the safety rope. “Mind taking this off of me, now?"

Mirelle worked the knots open as Chir'raal flew in behind her. He trotted to a stop and Enora vaulted off of him. She slung her pack down, then gazed around, hands on her hips. When the rope came free, Mirelle removed her own bag and exchanged the rope for a tightly rolled fur blanket. Enora had also brought them some biscuits and things, and though Mirelle wasn't hungry, she knew she'd better eat something. She selected one of the biscuits and set the pack and bedding aside.

Enora nudged the rolled up blanket with a foot. “Closet thing to a bedroll I could fit. You'll have to do without a pillow, though. I'd suggest you use the fur as the bed, and your cloak as a blanket."

“That's fine. Thank you." Mirelle untied the cord around the rolled up hide, and spread it out on the ground. “Where are we? I mean, how far have we come?"

“We'll be there tomorrow." Kurekka padded over to Chir'raal, and soon they were preening and smoothing each other's feathers.

“You two should sleep." Enora gave the gryphons a hard look. “We'll be leaving again as soon as the sun's coming up. I don't want Revaramek and Asterbury to kill each other while we're out here dallying."

Mirelle grit her teeth. She nearly had to bite her tongue to keep down her acidic retort. Arguing with people she barely knew about how far from shore Asterbury had drifted wasn't going to do anyone any good. As long as they all wanted to protect Revaramek, that was common enough ground. She'd worry about the village once she was reunited with the dragon.

“I'll gather some wood and get a little fire going." Enora gave each gryphon a pat, and then walked towards one of the old oak trees sheltering the long rise.

Once Mirelle had her bedding set, she followed after Enora. The moonlight shining upon her illuminated just how young her dark skin looked compared to only that morning. Mirelle picked up a few dry branches from beneath a tree, bundling them under an arm. Enora snatched up a few as well, took them to their camp site, and then returned to the trees. Mirelle did the same. The women wandered further across the hill. In the distance, a few old stone walls stood, the only remaining witnesses to a long lost structure.

As Mirelle collected more wood, she wandered closer to the crumbling walls. They looked to be limestone, though she couldn't see for sure. Generations of yellow-green lichen crusted them. Chunks of stone, now overgrown by grass and weeds, littered the ground. Carrying her armload of firewood, Mirelle walked past one of the walls. The land beyond it was flat, and she suspected if she dug up the grass and moss, she'd find a stone floor. Scraggly heather poked up where broken wall met broken wall, the only remaining corner.

“It was an outpost, I think." Enora walked up alongside her, shifting her own bundle of sticks. “The Storytellers, maybe. When they were first trying to secure this place. Or maybe it belonged to someone before them. The walls were higher and more intact when I was a girl. But even then, it was just a ruin." She inclined her head towards the distance. “There's a lot of them out there."

Mirelle glanced at the other woman, trying to measure up her expression. But Enora's gaze was almost unreadable, just staring out across the marsh. “Back in your house, the other day. You said we weren't the only ones to…to find ourselves here. You…you weren't just talking about…my people, were you? Or…Jekk's people."

Enora gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No. This world, it seems to be tied inextricably to countless other places. It's…as if it's made up from all the best parts of other worlds. Or…" Her face twisted, a shadow passed across it. “All the parts they lost. It's like they all ended up here, assembled into something…new. Some pure place for them to start over. Sometimes people end up here, too. There's no kingdom to the west, but there's ruins, some much bigger than this. There's more villages, and little cities. And that's only the parts of the world I've seen with my own eyes. Aylaryl and I have explored a great deal of it, mapped a great deal of it, but I doubt we've seen near all this world has to offer." She turned back to the campsite, carrying her wood. “Asterbury thinks….well, I suppose you know what he thinks this place is, by now. But I think it's something different."

Mirelle stared at her back a little while before following after. “What do you think it is?"

Enora set her firewood down, and then pulled a metal trowel from her pack to dig a fire pit. She hand another to Mirelle. “A refuge."

“What do you mean?" Mirelle knit her brow, digging her trowel into the earth.

“It's only a guess. Some attempt to make sense of the chaos all around me." Enora gave an odd laugh and shook her head. She dug a bit more, then began to assemble some kindling. “I think this world feels like some great refuge. Everyone who ends up here…finds solace, starts a new life. Some came here intentionally, some didn't. It's as if this whole world was meant as a sanctuary for stories that ended. Some of the worlds that crumbled…a little piece of them lingers here, whole and safe. If you believe Asterbury, there's many versions of every story, and they all exist…but sometimes I wonder if…when they change, when…one version ends. If they don't somehow end up in a place like this, some…safe harbor."

A chill settled in the base of Mirelle's skull, and trickled all the way down her spine. “Enora, that sounds like some kind of limbo."

Enora only shrugged. “I'd always imagined limbo to be a lot more empty than this." She gestured with a thin, dry stick. “It's just a theory. But I've seen things here that remind me of images from stories. Rev took me to a cave, once, that he said reminded him of some place he knew from his youth. There's a desert, supposedly, over the mountains…And everyone who comes here brings a little piece of home, a little hint of their own culture…it seems like a refuge to me." She sighed, setting the stick down atop the pyramid of kindling she'd made. “I once thought that was why Asterbury finally ended up here, because it was meant as refuge for him too. Seems I was wrong. Or maybe my mind's just gone." The other woman offered a playful smile. “I'm quite old, you know."

“So I hear." Mirelle grimaced, setting aside her trowel.

“I'm not sure if Asterbury's powers fix the way age sometimes breaks down the mind, or if they only rejuvenate my body." Enora held out a hand, staring at it in the moonlight. “Even now, I…can never get used to it."

“How many times has he done that?" Mirelle pushed herself up, dusting off her clothes.

“I don't remember for sure. Six or so. More than I think I'd like, to be honest. Sometimes I think…" She drew her pack over, digging inside it. Enora pulled out a knife, and used it to shave thin, fluffy splinters of wood into a little pile atop the rest of the kindling. “I think he's more scared of losing me than I am of getting old. I think he wants us to live as long as Aylaryl."

Mirelle walked to the nearby ruin and carried back a few stones to set in a circle around the fire pit. “Does it hurt when he does that?"

Enora put a hand on her cheek, pursing her lips. “Not really. It's more…startling and strange than anything else. It's uncomfortable, in a tight sort of way, but…there's a warmth to it."

“How the hell does he even do that?" Mirelle settled down again, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

“I've no idea." Enora set flint to steel, and spark to kindling. “He's a power not meant for this world, and the world he was meant for is likely long gone." She paused making sparks, staring out into the darkness. “I found the books long before I ever met him, they had come from…some other world, I suppose. Had no idea who he was when we first stumbled upon him. Thought we were saving his life, actually." She went back to striking the flint against her knife. “Think he was part of a cycle, of sorts. A loop to keep his world alive."

“What do you mean?"

“You're supposed to be reading, dear." Enora smiled as a spark took hold, consuming the fluffy kindling with first flame. “Everyone interprets a story differently, and I'd be lying if I told you my interpretation isn't biased because I care about Asterbury."

Mirelle grit her teeth, gazing out across the moonlight marsh. “I feel like I should yell at you for calling a murderer your friend, but I'm far too tired and…"

“And willing to admit you don't know the whole story?" Enora arched a brow.

“Only if you're willing to admit he's completely lost it and we have to stop him before anyone else gets killed."

Enora took a deep breath, and set her knife down. She stared into the flames as they grew, and spread to the larger sticks. “Yes…yes, I suppose we do."

“So. About that loop." Mirelle shifted her cloak as the warmth of the growing fire chased away the night's chill.

“Read the book, Mirelle."

“Is that going to tell me why you thought you were saving his life?"

Enora gave a little sigh, fetching a biscuit and her flask from the bag. She took a swig from the flask, then offered it to Mirelle. “Aylaryl and I were exploring, as we often did. Jekk's council had long since banished me from the village, and taken Rev away from both of us."

Mirelle took the flask, and gave the woman a moment alone with her thoughts. She swallowed a mouthful of rum. It didn't seem quite as bad as before. She passed it back to Enora.

“I'd built my home by then, invested in my first tavern, but…life was lonely, sometimes. So we roamed often, Aylaryl and I. One morning, Aylaryl was off hunting, and…I'd just finished cooking breakfast at our campsite. A little cabin we'd built, really, to sort of…serve as a base for our explorations out west. I'd always thought there was some…" Enora waved the flask, it shone gold in the firelight. “Kingdom out there, but there was nothing. Just…ruins. And hamlets with people speaking odd tongues. Tribes of va'chaak, and little urd'thin villages."

Mirelle couldn't help a little smirk. “Your words are wandering, too. Guess you really are getting old."

Enora sipped the rum, chuckling. “After I ate breakfast, I went for a walk. Carrying one of my lutes, playing it as wandered. Aylaryl was out hunting, and I heard her roar. An angry sound, a very clear threat. So I ran to try and find, and as I came over a hill, I saw her down in the valley." Enora waved her hand at the land beneath the rise they sat on. “About that distance away. There were at least a dozen va'chaak there as well, all warriors, and from the looks of things, furious. And there was an urd'thin in the middle of them. Tattered but colorful clothes, mangy fur. Thought he must have been some merchant from another village who'd gotten lost in the wilderness. Some of the va'chaak were pointing spears at him, the rest at Aylaryl as she stalked around them. I couldn't tell who was originally trying to kill who, but I decided to break their stalemate and took off running down the hill."

Mirelle held her hand out for the flask. “You didn't want Aylaryl to kill them?"

“No, and I didn't want them to kill some poor, lost urd'thin, either." She passed the rum to Mirelle. “We'd made good inroads with the local tribes. I didn't want to set that back, but more importantly, I didn't want anyone to die."

“So what happened?" Mirelle took a long swig. She wiped her mouth as the liquid warmed her, then tossed it back to Enora.

“By the time the va'chaak saw me coming, I was already smashing my lute over the first one's head. While he crumpled, I twisted behind another one with my knife drawn and at his throat. By then I'd learned enough of the va'chaak tongue here and there to speak to them. I told them…we didn't want trouble, but the urd'thin was under Aylaryl's protection." She waved her hand at the sky, smiling. “I made it clear that the big purple dragon ready to roast them was Aylaryl." She sighed, laughing. “I just made it up at the time, but…Aylaryl took it very seriously. She never really had anyone to…protect, before. So, they let the urd'thin go, I let them go, and we were all on their way."

“And what about Asterbury?" Mirelle searched her pack for her canteen, and took a long drink of water. It wouldn't do her or Revaramek any good if she woke up hungover. “He give you a bow, wave his hand over your lute and put it back together?"

“No…" Enora shook her head. She set the flask down, and stared into the fire. The flames painted her eyes. “No. He was…confused."

“About why you saved him?"

“About everything. He just started walking off into the forest. Aylaryl went after him, picked him up, brought him back into the open. We asked him if he was alright, if he needed help. And he just…stared at us like kindness was a foreign concept. He didn't really seem…all there."

Mirelle took another drink of water, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “There's an understatement."

Enora gave her a sharp look. “This was different. He just…started walking off into the woods again. So Aylaryl fetched him again, this time by the scruff of his neck. She set him down and curled a foreleg around him so he couldn't slink off anymore. Then he just…stared up at her, put a hand on her chest, and asked her where he was."

Mirelle nudged the end of a stick into the fire with her boot. “Please don't tell me he had, thirty years of amnesia and suddenly remembered he's a twisted little monster."

“He's only twisted because of what was done to him. If you were dragged away from the only home you'd ever known and made to put your loved ones back together, you wouldn't end up so perfect, either." Enora glared at her.

  Mirelle's chest tightened. “Sorry." She glanced over at the book she'd nearby, not sure she wanted to read it if that was what was in store.

“After that, he started asking us more specific…what time it was, what day it was…what world he was in. I checked him for head injuries, and couldn't find any. Thought he must dehydrated. Aylaryl suggested we take him somewhere safe, get him some water."

“Too bad you didn't leave him out there."

Enora slowly leaned forward over the fire, the flames dancing on her face. “If not for our kindness, I suspect he'd have come for your village a long time ago. He found peace here for the first time in years I can't begin to count. Didn't tell us a thing about who he was, what he was…what he'd done. Not for years. Not till he trusted us. Not till he and Aylaryl grew ever so close. And even then it…it was just little magic tricks here and there, reading books to us in languages we didn't know, talking about colonies. But he was happy here, with Aylaryl and me, and later the gryphons." She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Seeing him today…I think we must have been his anchor. But now I also think whatever monster's awoken inside him lately? I think Aylaryl coaxed it out."

Mirelle rocked back a little, sinking her fingers into the grass. “Why would she do that?"

“Why does anyone toy with forces beyond their understanding? I doubt she had any idea of what she was drawing out of him. Maybe she thinks she can keep him from going too far. They have a bond like I couldn't begin to describe. Aylaryl told him about her family, and…the horror on that urd'thin's face. He understood her pain, her loss, more than anyone I've known. And she knew his pain in turn, just the same. But seeing it mirrored in her may have brought it back to the surface for him. Alyaryl long wanted revenge, and when he told her the truth behind her family's murder, I think that was it for her. When she discovered how he used to chase down those people in every world he found himself in…she found a string to pull, and never knew what she was about to unravel."

“So she's using him for her revenge?"

Enora pursed her lips and shook her head. “It's not like that. They care deeply for one another. But his revenge is her revenge. There may have been a time when he was teetering between…giving it up, forever, living here in peace…or tearing out the storytellers and returning to that life. She just gave him that nudge in the wrong direction. She had a chance to help him lock that part of himself away, and in her desire for vengeance, she shattered the monster's chains, instead. Even now, I wonder if she's truly realized what she's unleashed."

Mirelle tore up a handful of grass, rubbing it between her fingers. She tossed it into the fire, and watched the green blades wither. “So what else can he do?"

“I think a better question is what can't he do." Enora reached for a larger bough, and set it over the flames. They crackled and popped, embers spun into the sky. “Which is what I've been wondering ever since the first miracle I saw him perform."

“Miracle?" Mirelle scrunched her face. “You make him sound like he's some kind of…" She trailed off. She didn't want to say it out loud.

Enora just stared at her across the fire. “Do you have a better term to describe someone who can change the nature of reality on a whim?"

Mirelle sure as hell wished she did. “So if he's that damn strong, why doesn't he just…" She swished her hand in the air. “Wave his hand, and say these…storyteller people never existed?"

“Comprehensive, indiscriminate change." Enora glanced at the tome sitting nearby. “You really need to read that book."

“Enora, why can't you just-"

“He calls it leaping the chasm." Enora lifted a hand, gesturing to the broad, starry expense of the open night sky above them. “When he changes something fundamental to the nature of the world. To bring someone dead back to life, or, say, stop a group of people from ever existing. It also refers to traveling between worlds, is that is also something not intended to happen. Think of reality as a pane of glass upon which we are all balanced, a story in which we all exist. Traveling between words requires a hole in not just that pane of glass, but another. If such a hole does not exist, you have to make it. One hole will not weaken the glass terribly so, but a hundred?"

Mirelle folded her arms, gnashing her teeth. As crazy as it all sounded, she was starting to think she'd better just buy in if she intended to stop Asterbury. “And what about leaping the chasm? Making a complete change."

“Leaping the chasm cracks the glass. Not one hole, but an entire network of fractures, spread across the world like a spider's web. Because it effects everything that change was connected too. If someone survives when they should have died? Think of how many lives that will effect differently. Every life that person would have known in changed in turn by their survival. It's like a ripple. The bigger the change, the greater the ripple. Saving a life that should have ended is a small stone against a sturdy window. It cracks, but it still holds. But changing the story to save someone who died years ago? Or say, if you take an entire group of people who have existed in a story for years, have effected countless lives…and stop them from having ever existed at all? That's a hammer through the glass."

“What happens to the story then?"

Enora gave only a cold smile. She rose to her feet, fetched the book, and settled back down. “When the story changes…" Enora lowered towards the fire.

Flames teased and threatened the blue-bound tome. Mirelle snatched it away from her, singeing herself a little. “Alright, I get it. Don't ruin the damn book." She shook her hands. “So it least we don't have to worry about him wishing us out of existence." She tilted her head, gazing at Enora through narrowed eyes. “How come Revaramek never met him before, if you've known him so long?"

“Aylaryl kept them apart." Enora held one hand in the other, rubbing her thumb against her palm. “At first, I think it was for petty reasons. Asterbury was our friend, and she already had to share me and the gryphons with Rev. I don't think she wanted to be forced into sharing any more friendships with the traitor, as she called him. Of course, later, when we knew what he could do, we were afraid of what Asterbury might do if Aylaryl got into a fight with Rev. By Rev rarely visited anymore, anyway. I'd asked Asterbury to make sure he was never around when Rev was. He'd always respected that until today."

“Probably because he never needed Rev until today." Mirelle snorted, setting the book in her lap. She drummed her fingers against its hard blue cover, thinking. “Actually…why does he need Revaramek? You said the better question is what can't he do, so…what can't he do?"

“Travel." Enora removed her fur blanket and spread it out near the fire. “Transition between worlds. Whatever you wish to call it. He can't move freely from world to world, not like the Storytellers can. They used gates, he said, built of a power I couldn't fathom. But even then, they're…" She glanced over at Mirelle, scrunching her face. “Well, imagine a door with a lock. It's the one door he can't open unless he has the key. The fact that Revaramek came here, with only his mother, that must be eating away at Asterbury. I suspect he thinks-"

“Revaramek has the key."

“Yes. He did call Rev saving your life a test, after all. And I've never seen someone who could…harm him. And he didn't kill Revaramek, thank the gods, when he had the chance." Enora took off her boots, and stretched out on her blanket, draping her cloak over herself. She propped her head on her hand, dark hair pooling against the grass. “Asterbury needs him alive, and I suspect it's to find his way home."

“If he can't…" Mirelle poked at the fire with a stick, sending a flurry of embers drifting into the darkness. “Travel, as you called it. How the hell did he get here?"

“Accidentally." With her other hand, she pulled her cloak tighter. “I think we almost saw it happen today. Whenever he loses control of his emotions, of his power…"

Mirelle sucked in a breath. Her jaw dropped. “That…that lightning sphere, in the sky…"

“Correct." Enora yawned, and lay her head down. “At least, that's what I assume that was. He's told me about it, but I've never seen it."

“So…maybe we can just…piss him off till he…gets pulled out of our story."

“You do that, and it might well pull you and everyone else around you into the gateway with him. And then…well, I'm not sure anyone else can survive transitioning that way. Even if they did, he'd probably kill you once you arrived. And that's to say nothing of the potential collateral damage."

Mirelle grimaced, stroking the soft grass beneath her with a palm. “You mean like that desert he made in your garden."

“Oh, that's nothing." Enora lifted her head long enough to give Mirelle a hard look. “I'm going to try and get some sleep. If you're not going to do the same, you should read the book."

Mirelle scowled. She moved her bedroll closer and got as comfortable on it as she could. With the warmth of the fire, she didn't really need her cloak right now. She glanced at the gryphons. Both of them were already asleep, leaning on one another. Sunrise was going to come far too soon. Exhaustion pressed against her like a heavy weight, and yet, her mind was still racing. Maybe Enora was right.

She opened the book, pleased to find that the fire provided more than enough light to read by.

“It's a fitting place to read that." Enora pulled her cloak up to her chin, closing her eyes. “This is where he showed me his first miracle."

*****

Revaramek awoke late in the morning, when sunlight first poured across the treetops and onto his green-scaled face. He groaned, stretching a wing to shield his eyes from the harsh, golden light. When he lifted his head, his skull throbbed. His first thought was that he must be hungover. Then he remembered a god had punched him in the head the night before.

Demi-god, anyway.

The dragon stretched his front legs out, and splayed his forepaws. He hoisted his hind end to stretch his back at the same time, yawning. When his yawn ended, he rose up and shook himself, idly wondering if Asterbury could have crushed his skull if he really wanted to. Much as Revaramek hated to admit an urd'thin could kick his ass, he was pretty sure the only reason he was still breathing was because Asterbury needed him alive.

How many times was that now that he'd tried to kill the little bastard? At least he had a better idea of why he kept failing. Still, he'd come closer to it than anyone else, as far as he could tell. There had to be a reason for that, and Revaramek was starting to piece together why that might be. He wondered if Asterbury had ever come up against anyone else who shared a fragment of his power, before.

Or did he?

It was only a theory, but he'd spent some time the night before thinking about it. If The Storyteller could unknowingly give his power to another, and Asterbury was descended from The Storyteller, then maybe Asterbury could give his powers away, too. Not directly to Revaramek, of course, but within whatever he'd done to make all that poison rain, to change the very nature of the world. Maybe he'd changed the creatures in it, too.

Revaramek still wasn't sure where the dragons came from. Had they always lived in that swamp? He shook his head, deciding it didn't matter right now. But the way he saw it, maybe that great, catastrophic change unleashed upon the world brought with it a spark of Asterbury's power, a hint of the old Storyteller's ember. The rain, the poison…maybe before it slowly killed off the dragons, it changed the early survivors just enough for them to…to pass on something new, to their offspring. Just spark enough for them to grow up, and one day, change the story and save a life.

Or maybe he was just thinking too hard about why he was so good at diving. He was awfully resplendent, after all.

Morning thirst beckoned the dragon towards water. His tongue was sticky. He worked it around his muzzle as he padded towards the springs. He'd spent the night in Mirelle's garden, near her rounded house. Not far away, a lake of golden sand stretched across what was once soft grass. The changes seemed permanent. No wonder Asterbury had had to change everything back at Enora's.

Revaramek shuddered, his scales clicking. How could he possibly hope to defeat a being that could transmute reality itself? He snapped his teeth. He couldn't. All he could do was try and use his weaknesses against him, to bear in mind what Asterbury couldn't do, and then… The dragon snarled. Mirelle wasn't going to like it, but Revaramek knew he had to protect this place from Asterbury somehow.

The breeze shifted, and brought a foul scent across his nose. His nostrils twitched, and his spines all pinned back. He knew that smell. Where once it was familiar, now it was foreign. Yet it tickled at memories buried deep in his head, brought out images of poisoned water, gray clouds, towering trees, submerged stones, and strange creatures.

Dark water lapped at black stones around the edges of the nearest spring. A little piece of the swamp, brought to the marsh. Revaramek scrunched his muzzle, staring into the water. It didn't look as bad as he remembered it, but then again, Asterbury's powers had only brushed one of the three springs. He tapped an unsheathed claw tip against a glossy black stone. They didn't look like normal rocks anymore. Strange stuff. It didn't seem to pick up any reflections. A few of the pots and pans left from his previous bath here were now nothing more than rusted hunks, looking as if they'd been left out in the elements for decades if not longer. The dragon lowered his head and sniffed at the black water. The scent made him cringe. Like Sulphur and vinegar.

Licking his nose to try and clear the scent, Revaramek padded around the ruined spring and headed for the furthest source of water. Clear water bubbled and trickled across flat stones layered in healthy green moss. A frog croaked and leapt into the middle of the water, vanishing beneath a few broad lily pads. A single pink water lily sat amidst the green pads. A few sniffs revealed the water to smell as clean and fresh as it looked.

 The dragon gulped long mouthfuls of cool, clean water, pausing only to gasp for breath before he lapped up more. When his thirst was quenched, Revaramek lifted his head, panting. Though he'd never admit it to Mirelle's face, her spring water tasted even better than the water of the marsh. He stared at his reflection in the spring. Dried blood caked the top of his head, between his horns, just before the start of his central frill. The fine scales there were cracked and broken, and a purple discoloration stretched from horn to horn.

“Sure am getting my ass kicked a lot lately." He lowered his head, scooped water in his paws, and splashed it over the dried blood. “Gonna have more damn scars, and no females to show them off to." He growled under his breath, rubbing water over his head. His spines flicked out, shuddering in pain while he washed the bruised area. “Mirelle better appreciate this. She better tell stories of me in her damn tavern when this is all over. And I'd better be resplendent in them!"

When his head was clean, the dragon did his best to bathe the rest of his scaled body. The spring wasn't large enough for him to swim in, and he didn't want to leave the town long enough to return to his usual bathing hole in the marsh. Not when Asterbury might well lightning himself back at any moment. That also meant he didn't have time to go off and hunt, either. Which was a shame, as hunting helped clear his mind. Then again, Revaramek wasn't sure a clear head was what he needed. He needed to untangle all those strands and follow them to their end, not sweep them aside.

Revaramek picked up a bucket that hadn't been ruined by Asterbury's power, and carried it in his jaws to the tiny desert that now existed in Mirelle's garden. He filled the bucket with golden sand, then returned to the clean spring. He dampened the sand with spring water, and used it to scrub his scales clean wherever he could reach them. When he was as clean as he was going to get, he emptied the bucket, then used it to pour water over himself until all the scrubbing sands were rinsed away. A few of his lingering wounds stung after his makeshift bath, but by this point he was used to the pain.

Once he was rinsed, it was time to address the rumbling of his belly. Revaramek padded towards The Cathedral, careful to avoid the sand. He didn't want it sticking to his paws while they were damp. He shook himself and beat his wings. Water droplets sprayed off his green scales and his copper-splotched membranes. He cut through the opening in the pine trees Asterbury made, and walked to the back patio.

The place was a mess. Little of the trellis that once ringed and shaded it was still standing. Some of the vines growing along it had died off, their flowers withered, others crushed when the dragon fell on them the night before. All the smashed furniture was piled off to the side now. The large back doors were closed. He reached for the handles, then paused, afraid he might break them if the doors were locked. He stretched his neck to peer through one of the broken, stained glass windows.

When he saw Beka and Tavaat were inside and cleaning, he called out. “Does someone want to let me in? I don't want to break the doors."

Beka raised her voice to reply as she carried an armful of dirty dishes to the bar counter. “You may as well break them. Then they'd match everything else." She set the dishes down, and soon opened the doors. “And here I thought you were going to sleep right through the end of the world."

“The world's not ending on my watch." Revaramek tightened his wings against his body, squeezing through the creaking door frame. “Going to have to tell Mirelle to enlarge this place."

“I'm sure that's going to be high on her list of priorities." Beka closed up the doors again, then walked around in front of him, gesturing for him to lower his head. He did so, and she set a hand on his broken horn while she looked him over. “Your head looks terrible."

“I'm not surprised. Never been punched by a god before." Revaramek eased his head back, then settled himself at the counter. “I'd say I've had worse but…I think if he hadn't wanted me alive he'd have just split my skull."

“So you really think he's…a god?" Beka picked up the dishes from the counter, and handed them to Tavaat. The va'chaak vanished through the doors into the kitchen, and dropped the dishes into the wash basin with a loud splash.

“I don't know what to think, right now." Revaramek sighed, gazing around the Cathedral. They'd done a lot of cleaning. The scents of soap, fresh herbs and incense clung to the air. “I know he's vulnerable but…I don't know if that means I can kill him. Even he seemed unsure if that's possible when I threatened to incinerate him. And so far I haven't managed to hit him with my fire, anyway. I think I have to assume I can't actually defeat him in battle."

Beka wiped down the counter with a towel, glancing up at him, worry tightening her face. “But you do have a plan, right?"

Revaramek scratched at the base of his broken horn. “I have…actually, I'd better not tell you about it. For all I know he can read your minds."

Tavaat returned from the kitchen. “Is that something he can do? And…if he can, couldn't he just…read yours anyway?"

The dragon sighed, setting a forepaw on the counter while the Va'chaak picked up another pile of dishes. “So far I seem to be the only one who can surprise him. I think it's because…I'm not part of this story. It's as if he's…connected, to whatever story he's in. He can change it, anticipate what's happening, alter it however he wishes. But, since I'm from another story, I'm…I'm not as susceptible to his powers. Or he has trouble altering what I'm doing, he can't make me miss him the way everyone else does. And he said he'd have to touch me to learn my story, or…however he put it. So I'm assuming that he doesn't need to do that, for everyone else. So I'll keep my plan to myself, just in case."

“Probably smart." Beka moved a few chairs back into position around freshly washed tables. She glanced back at him. “There's guards and city officials outside. I think they're waiting to hear your instructions."

Revaramek blinked. “My what now?"

Beka returned to the counter. “You did make yourself head of the military, right?"

“Damn it. I forgot about that." He drummed clawtips against the wood, tail swishing. “I need food. Could you find me something to eat while I go have a word with them?"

“Think we've got some sausages and things left. Have to make a trip to the butcher, and the market. I might not have enough to fill a dragon's belly, but I can take the edge off your hunger."

Revaramek bowed his head in thanks before he rose back to his paws. “That would be appreciated. Tavaat, would you mind getting the front doors? I'm going to go play overlord."

Tavaat hurried to push The Cathedral's carved double doors open. Their hinges creaked. Revaramek was half-surprised they hadn't just fallen off at this point. Once they were open wide enough for him, Revaramek strode through. At the end of the flagstone lane, where it met the road, a small crowd of armored men had gathered. Many sported tabards in the town's blue and red colors. There were also a few people dressed in formal tunics of office, red with blue sleeves and with the city's shield and fist emblem. A woman in a robe just like the one Jekk wore the day before was speaking to the crowd. Jekk himself stood nearby, now wear a golden shirt, and dark trousers. A couple others Revaramek did not recognize stood with him, including a man with a horribly disfigured hand.

Everyone important in the city seemed to have turned out today. And he got to boss them all around. He hissed under his breath, cursing Asterbury. He finally got to be a real overlord for a while, and he didn't even get to enjoy it. This was far too serious a situation for him to have any fun with this.

Stupid Asterbury. Spoiling my overlord moment.

Well…maybe he could have a little fun with it. Arguments were coming, he was sure of it. Defiance from the ruling Council. Trying to tell him he couldn't just kick them out, quarreling that they knew best, and that he didn't have the authority for this and that. He could see it brewing in their eyes, in their murmured voices. They had probably tried to rally people to their cause while he was sleeping.

But he wasn't going to have it. He strode towards them, lashing his tail. He parted his jaws, took a deep breathe. What would a dragon in the stories do?

Time to play overlord.

“Dragon!" The woman in the robe whirled around as he walked down the flagstones towards her. Her graying hair swished over her shoulders. She jabbed a finger at him. “What is this I'm told about-"

Revaramek roared. The woman stumbled back, clapping her hands over her ears. Half the crowd did the same, some turning away, others cringed and held up hands as if to ward off the sound. His roar, deep and brassy, echoed across the town, rattling windows. He roared until he had no more breath with which to give his fury voice. The dragon took a quick inhalation, and while his roar's echo was still lingering, he tightened his fire glands and blasted searing flame above the heads of everyone in attendance. Revaramek unleashed a massive stream of fire, roiling red and orange, with heat intense enough to send people scrambling for cover or throwing themselves against the dirty ground.

“I am not some frightened child, anymore! I am no longer the whelp you broke in the marsh and made swear himself to you in his own blood! I will not bow my head to swords and spears, I will not make myself bidden to your every request and belittlement! Nor will I take an order from any of you! And if one of you former council members so much as argues, I will hurl you over that wall!" He lifted a forepaw, thrusting a single digit towards the palisade around the edge of the village. “And anyone who draws steel to stop me will follow them."

A shocked silence settled over the crowd. Oooh, he liked that. Revaramek smiled, and set his paw back down. Spoken like a dragon from the exciting tales, or so he hoped. He stretched his wings out at his sides, flared his spines and bared his fangs at everyone. “I am your overlord now!" He let that settle in, watched them exchange worried glances and confused murmurs, and then snorted. “Luckily for you, I am benevolent. You see, benevolent means kind, caring, bearing of good will, and in this case, protective. Because that is exactly what I am going to do. Protect you! All of you."

“But Dragon, you can't-"

Revaramek whipped his head around to glare at the man speaking. He was standing near Jekk and the man with the mangled hand. “Don't interrupt your overlord! You, and your council, are done!" He whipped his tail through the air, punctuating his words. “You're over with! I am hereby removing the entire council from office, effective immediately. I am taking charge of your military, and your city, until Councilwoman Mirelle returns. Whereupon I will immediately hand over control to her. When you and your town are safe, she will appoint a new council as she sees fit. But none of you…" He jabbed a claw towards Jekk, his tail at the man speaking, and inclined his head at the woman. “Have proven fit to run a city! You ignored an obvious threat, and refused to seek the help of the only person who can actually stop that threat!" He put a paw to his chest plates. “Your benevolent overlord."

Jekk folded his arms, glaring at the other council members. “Told you."

That actually Revaramek smile. “I'm going to assume that Former Councilman Jekk filled his colleagues in? Then let me enlighten the rest of you." His voice began as a silken purr, and slowly grew into a brassy rumble. “The urd'thin who came with the dragon and attacked your village? Some of you have seen his power first hand, but that was nothing! Whatever you think he is, wizard, villain, sorcerer, whatever story you believe, you're wrong! No, Jekk's predecessors found the flesh and blood descendent of an actual god, and they taught him how to grieve."

He waved his paw at the crowd, not bothering to let that sink in for long. Revaramek didn't have time for the various slack-jawed yokes to play catch up. “All you really need to know  is that I am the only one proven capable of harming this creature. He is the villain, and I am the hero! I am your hero! I will protect you, I will shelter you, and I will save you!"

“Here, here!" A voice called out from the crowd. Revaramek glanced his way, and to his pleasant surprise, found it was the Tea Kettle cheering him on, and with his helmet off at that.

The dragon dipped his head in polite acknowledgement. “Thank you, Knight Commander." Then Revaramek narrowed his bronze eyes at the former council members. “But what I won't do is bow to you. I protect you now not for some truce you forced upon me, but I gave me word to be your hero. And that's what heroes do."

He lifted his head back up, calling out to the gathered crowd again. “So! Soldiers and captains. When the time comes, do not engage the urd'thin unless I am with you! And do not engage his dragon unless they are separated, at which point…" He trailed off, then snapped his teeth, snarling. “Shoot her the hell out of the sky. Prepare your village's gates and entryways, set choke points, and ready your village to be defended."

“Defended against what, exactly?" One of the other soldiers came forward, leaning on a spear. “If we can't fight him…"

“I have reason to believe he's readied an army of va'chaak warriors, who wish to take back their land. I am going to try to stave off this invasion attempt, but even if I succeed against the urd'thin, I cannot promise his va'chaak will not attack anyway. You need to make ready to defend your village, and your homes. Is that understood?"

“Yes, sir." The knight capped a fist to his chest, then turned to his own squadron of soldiers, and began barking out orders. “Spread word through the village! Any man capable of bearing arms should prepare to defend his home and family."

Oooh. Didn't that just send chills under his scales. He could get used to this overlord bit.

“Well, Dragon." Jekk unfolded his arms and stepped forward, a hint of a smile visible through his beard. “I've got to hand it to you, that wasn't bad." His smile faded. “What about Enora and those gryphons?"

“I don't think Asterbury meant a literal coup, but…" Revaramek grimaced. “If he did, I'm going to kick their feathered asses myself. But after that…when all this is done…" He waved his paw at the soldiers as they broke off into formations, following their individual captain's instructions. The dragon lifted his voice again. “When this is over, if you all survive, you're going to be holding peace talks with…with everyone! Your overlord expects an inclusive society. Head Councilwoman Mirelle will take the lead in that!" Satisfied with himself, Revaramek turned back towards The Cathedral, careful not to take off anyone's head with his tail. “Come with me, Jekk. I have to ask you something very important in private."

Jekk snorted, shaking his head, his smile returning. “Got everything figured out, don't you, Dragon."

Revaramek gave a low, rumbling growl. “Stop calling me Dragon. That goes for all of you!" He lifted his head, arching his neck in pride. “My name is Revaramek! Revaramek the Gods-damned Resplendent. Remember it!"

*****

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