The black dragon Kaon lay basking atop the highest stone pillar in the training yard. From here he could survey the whole field if he gazed from the edge. But when he lay in its center as he did now, none could see him and climb up to bother.
That was how it was supposed to work. That was how it had worked for the past month. But Kaon could hear the claws grasping for footholds midway up the pillars. Whoever it was must have thought that was stealthy in a way the taut flapping of wings wasn’t. Kaon chuffed out a single mirthful breath.
His lidded eyes focused on the pseudosun which hung high and bright above the town, casting yellow rays like searing glares. Kaon didn’t have the trouble everyone else did looking at the radiance. Briefly, he pondered his odds of getting away if he shattered or stole that sun, or swallowed it to dim its annoying light just a little.
After all, it had been too long since Kaon caused some proper havoc, reminded them all he was not the weakling his ranking might suggest.
“Aah!” It was shouted like it would scare him, like he hadn’t heard the grunts and pants climbing tellingly closer and getting deliberately quieter. But now he could place the voice.
“How did you find me, Imbry?” he coolly asked.
“You don’t even sound surprised! I just snuck up on you. Jump or something!”
He didn’t respond or move. He’d asked his question, and so he waited.
Imbry pulled herself completely onto the pillar with a triumphant cry, and stepped around. The summit here was wide enough for the two young dragons, but Imbry had to keep at the edge.
Imbry positioned herself so that she blocked Kaon’s basking light. Her shadow was cast over his pitch-black scales, and where it fell they almost tingled.
At this, the black dragon opened his eyes halfway. His snout was buried in his forelegs, but he glanced up. Imbry pouted at him, a frown on her pale yellow snout, glare in her green eyes.
“Why are you still sleeping? It’s noon.”
Kaon slid his gaze to his hourglass. It hadn’t run down. It wasn’t noon.
His lips tightened into a frown. He was the only one still basking at this point, he knew. But he didn’t linger because he was lazy. He knew exactly how long it took him to warm up. He knew precisely how much light he needed to absorb for the excess to foster magical growth. He wasn’t lazy.
Imbry gave Kaon’s snout a light smack. He twitched and growled, eyes opening fully now. The yellow dragonet gazed down wide and curious.
“Are you going to say anything, or…”
“Do not touch me, impetuous dragonet.”
“Jeez, calm down! And don’t ‘dragonet’ me. Talk fancy all you want, you’re just what, a year older than me? And not even third level yet!”
Kaon lifted his head, neck snaking upward so that Imbry wasn’t looking down on him anymore. A metal band coiled tight around his neck and glinted in the light. He said, “Will you answer my question?” Kaon could stare without blinking.
“What was it again?”
“Who told you where I was?” For no way she could have found him on her own.
“Vessia! She said you come up here every day to brood.”
Vessia. A dragoness of elegant curves, and scales of a dark, mysterious cast. She was ranked low for her age, just like him. But where he was held back by his Breath, she had a haughty disregard for ever applying herself in such vulgar affairs as training or advancement. She was on the short list of dragonets he even wanted to talk to – if only that were mutual.
“Hello? You still there, Kao?”
“What was it you wanted, imp?”
“Uhm…” She looked away. Flicking her forked tongue, she spoke without looking back. “A drake took my necklace. You know, the one my mom gave me? I kind of… need it.”
Kaon gave a thoughtful hm, and then remained silent for a long moment. Long enough he heard Imbry start to shift on her feet, long enough he felt a shadow pass in front of the pseudosun.
“Who would I be to refuse a dragonet in need?”
After all, it had been too long since Kaon caused some proper havoc.
Kaon’s pillar of choice was at the very edge of the pupil’s training yard, nearly far enough away for him to reach out and touch the metal net entrapping them here.
The pillar was also high enough that he could glide over and alight down in front of the training hall. Kaon’s scales were a night-black similar, almost, to a few other dragons, but the membrane on his wings was bloodred like no other. They had given him cloaks he could wear to hide it, but he didn’t want to hide it.
He folded his wings and stood before the training hall. Some called it the nest, but Kaon called it a prison. The affair itself rose up with the sembalance of a mountain, worn down by rain, with peaks honed to points. The central opening – it was a gate, but it never closed – had the look of a cave contructed.
On either side there were two sculpted dragons, twice as high as the young ones looking upon them. One was mighty Devain, master and teacher of all of the dragons here, founder of this order. The other was… one who seemed pathetic to Kaon. Somehow even rendered in looming stone couldn’t make this dragon seem remarkable or impressive. Who were they to even have a statue, some dragon Devain took pity on? Kaon found he didn’t care, and forgot the face upon looking away.
Kaon walked into the constructed cave, and shivered when he stepped into the shadow cast by the overhang. His eyes barely needed to adjust. The yellow dragon came several steps behind him; she was old enough she didn’t need to climb down – just barely old to manage gliding.
After eagerly slipping into the cool shade, Kaon checked himself and slowed but did not stop for Imbry. He called back, “Did you see who took it?”
“I can’t place his face, but he was hanging out with Geddion. Blue scales?” She dashed forward a few steps so that she was beside Kaon. “You’re lucky I saw them head into the nest, you didn’t even wait for me to give directions.”
Kaon kept walking. “Will they be expecting me?”
A pause. Imbry shook her head. “No… I don’t even think they expect I’m coming.”
As he walked, Kaon pushed himself into a shallow focus. He felt the power quivering awake as his thoughts quieted, like mist falling away to reveal a lake. Without a thought, magical energy rode through the meridians of his soul, away from his head and along his upper spine, pushing slowly past the metal band coiled tight around his neck, then finally falling into the magical nexus at his throat, and the magic began gathering there, ready to be channeled.
A first level dragon could sense their internal magic, but little else. But this, what Kaon was doing, was the capability of the second level: directing magic into your throat, where it can be charged into a breath weapon.
Imbry, beside him, had a flame-natured breath. It was overwhelmingly most common in dragons. Geddion, meanwhile, had breath of searing light, kin to the pseudosuns above, that lucky fool. He had never, ever seen Vessia use her breath – he didn’t even know if she was second elevation, but she had to be; she was ranked among them.
They said that Devain, the high mentor of these halls, had knowledge itself as his breath. How that worked, Kaon could only wonder.
“Don’t hurt them, ok?” Imbry was murmuring after Kaon’s long silence. (It broke his focus, but he admited his mind had already began to wander.) “I only want my necklace, I don’t want vengeance.”
“I won’t hurt them too bad.”
They walked the halls. Underfoot the dirt was compacted, tight with fungal mycelium and moss to the extent it was almost carpeted. Glass bulbs hung from the ceiling, emitting the same color and kind of light as the pseudosun, but so much dimmer. Still Kaon walked at the shadowy edge of the hall, rubbing his shoulder against the wall and nearly clipping it when it suddenly, randomly jutted out.
Kaon resumed the meditative focus, gathering mana in his soul’s throat-nexus until it was full, and then — pushing out.
The mentors, in their mantric wisdom, said that a full nexus should be all but bursting, the mana within excited, almost as if it wanted to be let out. The act of releasing it came naturally to dragons.
It did not come naturally to Kaon. When he channeled his mana, it would remained stubbornly within his throat nexus, as if in protest. He’d been held back for months, the mentors, the other pupils, viewing him as some defect, some incompetent idiot.
But Kaon was no fool. He’d worked and worked, tirelessly in his free time, meditating, feeling and flexing the flow of his mana. He pushed and pushed, anything to have something blast forth from his throat.
The first time, it felt like reaching into his throat and ripping out his stomach. Still did.
Kaon pushed, wretched and forceful, clenching and flexing his mana like muscles, and the sum of all that tireless work now crawled up his throat.
He opened his mouth, a tiny black mist that traveled out. Black, like it floated out into the light without realizing it was no longer in shadow, for just a moment, and then the mist faded. The result was an invisible cloud, clear like glass, which you only saw because of how the refraction bent the light.
Six cubic inches of mist. It looked ethereal, but it felt substantive, a part of Kaon, like mana condensed into something elsse.
Six cubic inches of mist. That was why Kaon was ranked so low, despite his intense study and dedication. Neither his mysterious parentage, nor the occasional havoc he caused was as damning as the fact that, among dragons who could breathe fire or searing light or knowledge itself, he breathed six cubic inches of magical air. He could control it, mold and manipulate it, harden it to solidity or bend it like paper, but it dispersed almost uselessly when he tried to pierce or stab dragon scales.
It had its uses, however. There was a reason Kaon could easily stare at the sun, look without blinking, and step into shadow without adjusting his eyes. Half an inch of the mist sat before each of his eyes, and augmented his sight.
The two dragonets walked the training halls, and climbed up to corridor that lead to the collective Lairs for the higher ranked drakes, three to a room. Most of the pupils were outside. This door was locked, and only the ones who belonged had the key.
But Kaon had six cubic inches of magic air, and he had spent a year becoming very familiar with its uses and limitations.
The mist floated willfully to his outstretched claw, which he lifted and brought to the keyhole of the door. He directed the mist inward, delicately twisting, tapping, and pulling on the inner workings of the lock. And then it clicked and he pulled and it was opened.
“Wait outside, Imbry,” he said. She pouted a moment, but sighed and stepped back.
Inside the lair were three drakes, two of whom were already growling, on top of each other, sparring. And Geddion sat on high, watching.
He turned his gaze, and regarded the black dragon infiltrator.
Snuggly Serials 