Chapter 55: A Young Dragon Reflects

The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon

Tideweaver’s gaze drifted over the ruins of the merfolk settlement. The cause of the devastation lay dead before him. For a kraken, his foe had not been especially a large, a mere two miles in diameter. However, he had been vicious, and many of Tideweaver’s scales were now cracked and broken. Yet despite the blood oozing from his wounds, he felt no pain. Instead, there was only satisfaction.

In many ways, the merfolk who had sworn themselves to his family were pitiable creatures. Their lives were short, and even the mightiest amongst them was little more than a candle when compared to the blazing star that was his power. And yet… they were not without virtue.

The kraken he had slain was an outcast, a wanderer with no home to call his own. He had survived for Ages by raiding settlements and skulking in the deeps that others had yet to claim. The merfolk had stood no chance against him. Yet their warriors had not fled. Instead, they had chosen to stand their ground and fight so that their women, children, and elderly could evacuate. They had been almost completely wiped out, but their sacrifice had not been in vain. They had distracted the kraken long enough for Tideweaver to arrive.

Long ago, when he had been only a hatchling, Tideweaver’s father had said something that had lingered in his mind ever since.

“It is easy to be brave when you are strong,” his father had said. “But true courage only shows itself when you are weak.”

He had not understood at the time because he had been unable to imagine his father ever being weak. It was only as he’d grown older and learned of the Catastrophes that he’d understood what his father had meant. As mighty as Fathombinder was, his father’s strength could not compare to the power of the Broken God or the Exiled Star. Even the Lord of the Tides had been far beyond him.

If his father had been a coward, he would have fled from those battles. Instead, he had risked his life to help defeat the Catastrophes. He had proven that his courage was real, that he was not a coward who only showed strength when faced with the weak. For a long time, Tideweaver had wondered what would happen if he ever found himself in such a situation. Would he run, or would he stand his ground and fight? As weak as the merfolk were, they had proven their courage.

And Tideweaver had proven his against Ashheart.

As of late, he had often found his thoughts drifting back to his battle against the older dragon, and they would almost certainly have done so again if something remarkable had not occurred. He froze as the very currents of magic in the sea around him trembled.

He motioned for the remaining merfolk to hide themselves before surging up through the water, only slowing once he was in the air with nothing but clouds and rain around him. Yet even there, far above the sea, the currents of magic were not idle. The currents of magic that flowed through the sky quivered like the strings of some enormous instrument.

But if the currents of magic were the instrument, who was the musician?

The answer came a moment later as a voice echoed through the earth, the sea, and the sky. It was everywhere and nowhere, a sound that echoed as much in his heart and soul as in his ears. It was a voice he had not heard for an Age, a voice filled with well-earned confidence and unmistakable power.

It was Doomwing.

As the primordial dragon’s voice thundered through him, Tideweaver’s jaw clenched in frustration. After his Fourth Awakening had gone so smoothly, he had thought very highly of himself indeed. He would never dare to place himself above his father – the dragon he loved and respected most in the world – but it was easy to believe that he was closing the gap between himself and the dragons who stood at the pinnacle of the world.

His battle against Ashheart – if it could be called a battle – had shown him how foolish he was. The older dragon had bested him with ease. Tideweaver had not felt like a mighty dragon at all. Instead, he’d been treated like a silly whelp.

It reminded him of those long ago days when he’d been so young and naïve that he couldn’t even imagine a foe that could challenge his father. Tideweaver had worked tirelessly to improve himself. He had strengthened his body, honed his skills, and sharpened his magic. Yet before Ashheart’s might, none of that had mattered.

Worst of all had been the look in Ashheart’s eyes. The older dragon’s hadn’t even considered him a threat. If anything, he’d been more concerned about not harming him too badly, lest he cause unnecessary conflict with Tideweaver’s father. To Ashheart, he was simply a child in need of discipline.

It would have been easy to give in to despair, but Tideweaver was no coward, and his father had not raised a weakling. He had fought to the end, and he had not fled in the face of Ashheart’s might. He had lost, but there was no shame in losing to a foe like Ashheart. Instead, he had decided to use his defeat as motivation. Clearly, there was still plenty of room for him to improve.

The ease of his Fourth Awakening had made him arrogant, and that arrogance had blinded him to the truth. He should consider himself fortunate that the price of coming to his senses had only been a beating. It was all too easy to imagine circumstances where his foolishness would have cost him his life. Ashheart was mighty, but he was also merciful in his own way. As Tideweaver’s father had pointed out, not all primordial dragons would have treated him so leniently.

Had he acted so… foolishly toward Doomwing, he would have found himself in a great deal more pain with injuries that would have taken far longer to heal. When his father had told him that, he had wanted to protested. After all, it was one thing to lose to Ashheart, but surely, he would have done better against Doomwing. His father had merely chuckled and patted him on the head before making him swear to never do anything so foolish. After all, his mother would grieve terribly if anything were to happen to him.

Now, witnessing Doomwing’s magic at work, Tideweaver realised that his father might have actually understated just how dangerous Doomwing truly was. To manipulate the very currents of magic across such a vast distance and over such an enormous area – that spoke of magical skill and power far beyond anything Tideweaver could imagine. It made his own achievements in that field seem like nothing more than the ignorant scrabbling of a child in the dirt. His lips curled, and he bared his teeth as the flame within him roared.

If Ashheart was the pinnacle of physical power, then the same could be said of Doomwing and magic. As impossible and foolhardy as it seemed, Tideweaver knew what he had to do. He would pursue them. Even if he stumbled and failed to ever reach them, the simple of act of trying to catch up would allow him to reach even greater heights.

Once Doomwing’s message finished, Tideweaver returned to the ruins of the merfolk settlement. He did what he could to shore up their defences and help rebuild their homes before harvesting the corpse of the kraken. It was familiar work, and it gave him time to think. Only after he was certain the merfolk would be able to manage did he leave and make his way back to archipelago at the heart of his family’s territory. The merfolk might be lacking in many ways, but they had pledged their loyalty to his family. To abandon them without aid would have been shameful beyond measure. He would inform his father of their plight, and one of the others would be dispatched to offer further assistance. He was ill suited to the task of rebuilding, and there was no need to tie down a dragon who had already achieved their Fourth Awakening now that the kraken had been slain. A dragon of the Second Awakening should more than suffice, especially if that dragon had magic better suited to reconstruction.

As Tideweaver soared over the ocean, he contemplated Doomwing’s message. There was no doubt in his mind that every dragon in the area – perhaps the world – had heard the message. Doomwing had called for a great gathering of the primordial dragons to discuss matters of importance, and he had offered several incentives to encourage attendance. Tideweaver was certain that his father would take advantage of the offer, and he did not want to be left out of the preparations.

He arrived at the island that housed his mother and father’s lair to find that his family’s vassals had already gathered. They were all dragons that had sworn themselves to his father. Some had followed him since the Second Age whilst others had only joined more recently. However, all of them had sworn oaths and proven their loyalty.

His mother was absent. She remained in the lair she shared with his father, keeping watch over the egg she had laid hardly a week ago. Tideweaver found himself smiling. His mother and father had longed for another child, and he could not be happier for them. He was also looking forward to having a younger sibling. Too often had he been the one to receive wisdom and knowledge from his elders. Having a younger sibling would allow him to pass on what he had learned.

Until the egg hatched, his mother would not leave it, nor would the guards his father had assigned to protect her and the egg stray from their posts. Tideweaver doubted that anyone would be insane enough to attack his mother and the egg, but it was better to be cautious than to be caught off guard. After all, the world was full of fools, and the actions of a fool could be difficult to predict.

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His father and his followers had gathered on the beach and in the shallows. They were all dragons connected to water in some way or another, and their scales ranged from the deep blues and greens of dragons associated with the sea and ocean to the muddy browns and lighter blues of dragons associated with rivers, lakes, and estuaries.

“Tideweaver.” His father’s eyes narrowed. “You are bleeding.”

“A kraken along the edges of our territory,” Tideweaver replied. “It attacked a merfolk settlement.”

“Is that so?” His father’s gaze sharpened. “I trust that the kraken in question is dead.”

“Of course.” Tideweaver bared his teeth. “I slew him myself.” He frowned. “However, there was only so much I could do for the merfolk. I gave what aid I could, but it would be best, I think, to dispatch someone better suited to reconstruction to assist them. There should be no further danger, but my talents lie elsewhere.”

“Hmm…” His father gave a low rumble, and the waves trembled. “I will send Ripplewing. She has only recently experienced her Second Awakening, but she enjoys such tasks and has shown proficiency in them.” He gave a thoughtful hum. “And she is… friendlier than most. If the merfolk have to rebuild, it might be better if they dealt with someone more personable.”

“Father… about Doomwing’s message…?”

His father chuckled, and the sound was echoed by the others. It was a stark reminder of how long his father had known Doomwing. “Doomwing is reminding everyone of why he leads – and why we follow.” The waves surged and then broke upon Tideweaver’s scales. “Tell me, my son, what do you think of the incentives he offered?”

Tideweaver saw the question for what it was: a test. “I think the two most important incentives are his lectures and advice on awakenings and his teachings about magic.”

His father nodded in approval, and his tail curled. The sea rippled in response. “I agree, and I think it is more than worth it for us to attend.” His eyes gleamed, twin pools of azure that soon darkened to indigo. “I will go to the meeting, and I will bring a delegation with me. Benthicscale will be my second.”

Tideweaver glanced at the dragon in question. Benthiscale was the son of his father’s long-dead best friend – a dragon who had perished in battle against Mother Tree’s forces at the end of the Second Age. His father had taken the younger dragon under his wing and raised him as his own. Benthicscale had repaid that kindness with unshakable loyalty. He had also played a large role in Tideweaver’s own upbringing. He was something between an older brother and an uncle, which had made for some awkward moments over the years. Nevertheless, Tideweaver trusted him with his life.

“I understand.” Tideweaver wanted nothing more than to be trusted to act as his father’s second. However, Benthicscale’s experience, wisdom, and power were undeniable. To have him as his father’s second made perfect sense. Out of all the dragons apart from the primordial dragons, Benthicscale was amongst the most widely known and most well respected. “Shall Gulfwing be your third then?” The female dragon had followed his father since the Third Age. She was not as mighty as Benthicscale, but she had keen instincts and an eye for detail. Whatever his father or Benthicscale might miss, she was sure to catch, and she had a certain cunning that was often lacking in dragons.

“No. Only yesterday, she laid an egg.”

Tideweaver blinked. “I did not realise that she and her mate were trying for a child.”

“They did not say anything, lest fortune turn against them.” His father’s grin was wide and toothy. “She and Waveroar will be good parents. Naturally, however, neither of them are keen to leave our territory, and I am not so heartless or foolish as to demand that of them.”

It was advice that his father had often given him – never give an order that he knew would not be obeyed. Doing so would only make him seem weak and heartless.

“Then shall Lakesong be your third?” Tideweaver asked. The elderly dragon had yet to achieve his Fourth Awakening, but he possessed keen insight and formidable wisdom and knowledge that the years had yet to dull although he was no longer suitable for frontline combat. He had often served as Tideweaver’s tutor in matters related to history and governance. Despite surpassing him in power, Tideweaver continued to respect him. Competence and loyalty were the two most important traits for a vassal, or so his father had told him. Lakesong possessed both in ample quantities, and it was often said that achieving a Fourth Awakening was as much a matter of luck as it was a question of talent or resources.

“No.” His father reached out and settled one claw upon his shoulder. “You will serve as my third.”

“Me?” Tideweaver stared, and laughter rippled out from the others, sending waves sweeping across the surface of the sea. But there was nothing mocking or cruel about the sound. Indeed, they all seemed pleased, and there was pride in Lakesong’s eyes, perhaps at seeing the success of a former pupil.

“Yes.” His father’s claw tightened ever so slightly. “To survive you need strength, but to thrive requires wisdom. This meeting will be your chance to acquire the wisdom that you lack.” He growled. “It has been a long time since all of the primordial dragons have gathered outside of battle. This meeting will be your chance to watch, listen, and learn. It will also give you a chance to connect with others of similar age, particularly the children and descendants of my fellow primordial dragons.” His gaze hardened. “I have survived every Catastrophe so far, but should the worst occur, such connections will be useful.”

“Father…” Tideweaver wanted to say that there was no chance that his father would ever fall, either in battle or outside it, yet he knew that would be foolish. Instead, he straightened and resolved to be worthy of the trust his father was putting in him. “I will do my best.”

“That is all I can ask,” his father said, and then he laughed again, and his tail slapped against Tideweaver’s side. “And perhaps another female will catch your eye at the meeting… one that does not already have a mate, especially one so mighty as Ashheart.”

Tidewaver hissed. “Father!”

His… battle with Ashheart was well known amongst his family’s followers. The younger vassals had not mentioned it, but there had been no shortage of remarks from his father’s older followers, many of whom had also personally experienced the tectonic dragon’s might. It seemed that Tideweaver was not the first – and would certainly not be the last – to test themselves against Ashheart. If it was any consolation, however, none of them had done any better, and many had done worse. Only his father could boast of fighting Ashheart on relatively even footing although his father had also admitted that Ashheart had not been exerting his full strength. In truth, there wasn’t a dragon alive who would be happy to face Ashheart in close combat.

“You said that Doomwing’s lessons on Awakening and magic are the most important incentives. Explain your reasons.”

Tideweaver shook off his embarrassment and gathered his thoughts. “The First and Second Awakenings are fairly straightforward.” He thought back to his many, many lessons on the topic. “For the vast majority of dragons, sufficient power and resources will allow them to achieve their First and Second Awakenings.” He bared his teeth. You once told me, father, that any fool with enough resources and a properly situated lair would be able to achieve their Second Awakening.”

“Doomwing was actually the first person to say that although he followed that remark with a lecture about all the ways a proper First or Second Awakening would surpass one achieved through a glut of resources and power alone.”

Tideweaver shuddered. He could still remember the preparations he’d undergone before undertaking his First Awakening. His father and Lakesong had made it very, very, very clear that he was to refine himself as much as possible, so that he could build upon a solid foundation. As a hatchling, he had been eager to advance, and he had felt the occasional stab of resentment, half-convinced that they were trying to slow his progress. It was only later, after achieving his Third and Fourth Awakenings that he’d realised just how important the foundations he’d laid all those years ago truly were. Indeed, Lakesong had mentioned his own youthful follies more than once, citing them as the cause for his own struggles to achieve a Fourth Awakening.

“However, the Third Awakening is much more difficult,” Tideweaver said. “As for Fourth Awakenings, they are harder still, and the requirements are unique for each dragon. It is often said that without good luck, even a talented dragon will not be able to achieve their Fourth Awakening.”

“Yes, which is why Doomwing’s lectures and advice on Awakenings are so valuable,” his father said.

“Nobody knows more about Awakenings than him,” Tideweaver said. “With his knowledge and wisdom, our younger followers will be able to lay better foundations. Meanwhile he might also be able to help those amongst our followers who are struggling to attain a Third or Fourth Awakening.” He glanced at Lakesong, and the hunger in the older dragon’s eyes was clear. If anyone would be able to help him, it would be Doomwing, and with his age showing more and more with each passing year, he was running out of time.

His father glanced out over the sea and reached out with one claw. For a moment, the surface of the sea was completely still for miles around. “Power matters, my son. And there are few things more powerful than a dragon who has achieved their Fourth Awakening. It was not a coincidence that Soulseeker only dared to attack Regal Flame while she and her mightiest followers were still recovering from the injuries they suffered against the Exiled Star. And it is no coincidence that none have dared to attack her since. Setting aside her personal power, she not only has the most followers but also the most followers who have achieved their Fourth Awakening. Think of the kraken you fought. Would you have managed to defeat it before your Fourth Awakening? Every Fourth Awakening dragon we have adds to our power considerably.”

Tideweaver nodded grimly. The very same kraken he had killed with relative ease would have slaughtered him prior to his Fourth Awakening. That was how big the jump in power was. His own Fourth Awakening was not simply a matter of pride – it had made protecting his family’s territory significantly easier. His father was powerful, but he could not be everywhere at once. Moreover, his mother, whose power was second only to his father’s, was now devoting herself entirely to safeguarding their egg.

“As for the lessons on magic that Doomwing offers,” Tideweaver continued. “His knowledge and power in that field are unmatched. For those who specialise in magic, I can think of few things more tempting than a chance to learn from him.”

“Indeed.” His father drew himself up to his full height. “Make your preparations. We will leave tomorrow morning. Amongst your followers, pick three that are approaching their first Awakening, two that are approaching their Second Awakening, and one that is approaching their Third Awakening. They will accompany us.”

“Understood, father.” Tideweaver tried – and failed – to hide his joy. Being able to bring his own followers meant that he was not only responsible for their safety but also for ensuring they obtained as many benefits as possible. It was a chance for him to show that he knew how to handle his followers properly, an important task now that he had achieved his own Fourth Awakening and could begin to create his own faction, albeit under his father’s rule. “I won’t let you down.”