It didn’t take long to fall, so Kaon shouldn’t have been surprised that it was seconds before Oap called out.
It worked, in a way. Initially, he had considered a plan of running in, leaving his cast-off behind as some sort of delayed payload, some kind of trap. Two problems shot that down. One, Kaon had range limits, and he lost fine control the farther away his cast-off got. Two, Kaon thought he needed his cast off for what he would do next.
Knowing the dark red dragon was on his heels, Kaon compressed his cast-off. He felt the mana Oap had poured into the vortex, and had let his cast-offs get fat (metaphorically) with the stuff.
In the fight earlier, this had produced an explosive release of mana. And Kaon wouldn’t mind an explosion, about now.
So with crushing force he compressed his cast-off.
And deeper in he ran.
Air was flowing past him fast enough to make his ears flutter and breathing harder. He heard a yelp in Oap’s deep voice, he heard shouts in the voice of the red dragon, and the indistinct mutter of a growing crowd. But most of all, he heard the roar of the wind. Like any drake from the consequences of his actions, he ran.
The interior of every pupil-hall reflected a similar design principle. It was a grand cavern. Surrounding him on all but one side, a great circular rock wall rose high, lined with mouths opening to each lair. Not all opened on the floor – some were higher up on the wall, easily reach by flying there.
Kaon leapt, aiming to increase his speed by even a little. He knew which room Vessia laired in; he’d heard the coordinates from Oap talking with Nesle.
No lair had a door, or any other means of shutting out dragons, but each did have a curtain that could be drawn over the entrance.
Vessia’s lair had the curtain drawn.
(Behind him, the sound of the wind had grown chaotic, and dimunited. He heard the crackle of flames he’d never forget: the sound of the dark red dragon’s firebolts.)
The black dragon had stopped in front of the curtain, and tentatively reached with foreleg to part the two lengths of cloth in their center.
Lairs had openings to let in the light; lairs had bulbs for lightslime oozes. Yet this one was dark.
Feeling crafty after the stunt with the air, Kaon breathed out pure mana, and waited for it to glow. Then Kaon pushed out his cast-off. This indirection should let him channel light with his cast-off, no?
Bringing his cast-off near the glowing mana met odd resistance, and when enveloped, it simply went dark, a snuffer over the candle. It didn’t work.
A waste of time. Kaon stepped into the dark lair. Should he leave the curtains parted to let in light?
No, He didn’t need to.
Inside the dark of the lair, he saw. Never had he had the trouble other dragons had seeing in dim rooms, and he’d assumed it an unexpected feature of the bits of cast-off he usually kept in front of his eyes (something he no longer had enough spare volume to indulge, now).
But now, in this darkness, especially in this darkness, he saw.
As though the shadows accomodated him.
Kaon looked around the room. He noticed in the dark, the colors were odd — different than in the light. Not wrong — some would call them wrong — but to Kaon, they felt… right. But he didn’t have the time to admire colors.
Obvious details stood out – near the entrance, bits of wood and fragments of mirror-glass, scratches on the stone floor. Had this been where Nesle’s mirror was? Mirror shards would suggest a careless thief. Why would a thief be careless?
Kaon looked further into the room. Vessia, he guessed, had the lowest bed. Colorful pillows piled upon one bed, and near it, paints and brushes and paper (surely Nesle’s), while another had leaned against it the bladed weapons creatures other than dragons used, and a smell of oil. Not things he associated with Vessia.
And only one bed, of course, was not made, covers a mess. Just as Haore described – in disarray, as if from haste.
But first, Kaon sought out something heavy and easy to move. The one chest each pupils got to store their possessions? Kaon grabbed one, heavy with whatever Nesle’d stuffed in there, and shoved it toward the entrance, and with a smirk, thought to set it so that the bottom of the curtain went underneath the chest’s mass. Perhaps, if the other dragon tried to force their way in, they might rush into the curtains only to hit them unexpectedly taut.
Kaon immediately felt ridiculous after doing it. Would that save more time than he’d wasted doing it?
There were times, when playing games of strategy with pieces and boards, he made move and countermove, each one a natural response to his opponent’s act, and at the end of the sequence, found that he’d come to a truly embarrassing position. Each move had seemed reasonable in the moment, but the end result? Hopeless and amateurish.
Everything he’d done to get here, and was this outcome worth it all? What did he hope to find, with a few minutes (if his gambits had bought even a few minutes) to search the room?
Kaon dismissed the thought, and sought to make use of what time he had.
On Vessia’s bed, two books lay, one of them open as if she’d fallen asleep reading it. Kaon read the titles – one Numiel’s Gates, and one Malthec: Reign and Shadow.
Then Kaon looked up, to the openings where light was supposed to shine in. Kaon found them filled with rocks and packed dirt. Whenever that was done, it’d require quite some time to do. Haore implied Devain had left searching this morning. And a thief certainly wouldn’t have time to do this. Who did it, then? Why?
Scant pieces, when he didn’t even know the shape of the puzzle.
Kaon had nowhere else to look, so he crouched down to peer underneath Vessia’s bed.
Was there anything he could under there? But was there anywhere else to look?
Kaon formed his cast-off into several long, slender shapes, and with them he felt along the floor beneath the bed.
Tucked away by the head lay a small square form. Pulling it out, he gazed upon a book with no title. Inside, ink stained the fresh vellum, a maze of handwritten symbols. A diary? But the glyphs are unrecognizable. A code?
He swept further. Several small, sharp shapes, and wet cloth. He retrieved a scalpel and some needles, and an odd metallic shape engraved with runes. The cloth was a bandage. Soaked in blood, and dried flakes coated the blade and needles too.
Kaon sighed. More pieces. Were these even for the same puzzle?
And then his heart seemed to stop beating, his breath held.
He heard the steady pounding of a large dragon running on stone.
Getting closer.
Kaon slammed his paw down on a ground. All of this work – and for what?
But what was I expecting?
What could Kaon have found, but clues so cryptic no one bothered mentioning them, sensing their irrelevance? What was there to dig up, with only a few minutes to search?
As the dragon approached, he flung out his cast-off under the bed one last time, half desperate, half dismissive.
The dragonet could admit what he felt. Kaon was the only one to figure out something didn’t add up. Kaon was the only one who payed attention to Vessia, who recognized her. Kaon struggled so hard just to get here, because he thought that’s all it would take. Like Vessia would have done all this to leave a note waiting for him alone. ‘I know you’re special,’ it would say. ‘I knew you could do it. I’ll tell you my secrets.’
And that’s exactly what he found.
A thick page sat folded up underneath the bed, and it had his cast-off tingling upon barest contact – like from magic. His hope leapt to his throat, almost palpable as mana, and in his eagerness he didn’t just pull the note towards him, he slid under the bed. He unfolded the dark page.
Behind him, the sound of curtains being ripped open. Light rushing in, but not reaching under the bed.
He read:
Black ink painted on black paper. If you can read this…
Hello, Kaon.
I would speak clearly, but I cannot dismiss the threat that despite this precaution, someone else will find this note.
So I’ll only say what is most important. If you’re worth telling, you’ll understand.
- To seek freedom, reject knowledge and embrace darkness.
- Write down every plan. Always trust your handwriting, above all else.
- There are only two players on this board. Pick your side, and soon.
When you’re ready, give this note to some other dragon. As long as you do so before sunset. After then will be too late, and I will not care.
Kaon’s eyes barely reached the last paragraph before he felt a grip – claws digging in – squeezing his tail. Yanking him from under the bed.
“A dust devil.” The voice was a deadly growl. “On Devain’s grounds, surrounded by first levels, with no supervision, you thought it was acceptable to create a dust devil!?”
Kaon tried crushing the paper before the other dragon could see (even though in the light, he sees it’s just a black page).
“What do you have ther–” The other dragon was reaching down and snatching the paper from Kaon’s paws.
Their demand gave way to sudden silence, and Kaon could stand up without interruption. He turned around.
And behind him, meeting his gaze with glowing purple eyes, stood Vessia.
Snuggly Serials 