Chapter 76: The Dragon, the Qilin, and the Gift |
"It would seem that not much has changed since my last visit."
Oblivioncaller chuckled and looked up at his guest. "Things are even deader around here than last time, I suppose."
The qilin stepped down from the sky and descended until his hooves were about to touch the coarse, white sand that dominated the innermost part of the dragon's domain. What passed for a smile appeared on the qilin's face. "If I am not mistaken, the sand is finer than it was during my last visit. That is progress."
Oblivioncaller grinned. "But not of the good kind, I think." He had returned to his home after attending the great meeting with the other primordial dragons. Being around others he had known for so long had lifted his mood somewhat, and the qilin's unexpected appearance was auspicious in its own right.
"Are you sure?" Where the qilin walked, the wind sang. Where his hooves were closest to the sand, embers were born, but not a single grain of sand was scorched. And about his head, where the mane of a horse might have swayed in the breeze his presence brought, there was lightning. Yet there was no acrid scent, no sudden boom of thunder. There was only the whisper of a breeze laden with the scent of springs past, present, and future. "I think I saw a plant on my way here."
"That was probably the swamp," Oblivioncaller replied. "And I hope you did not linger there too long."
The qilin tossed his head in a gesture at once defiant and amused. "I made sure to give my greetings, as is only proper. For how could a guest not greet their host?"
Oblivioncaller gave him a frank look. "You know how irksome she finds you, yet you never fail to visit her before coming to see me, and I suspect you make sure to see her on your way out. I thought the qilin were supposed to be dignified, but you can be surprisingly petty."
The qilin laughed. "If a dragon can mope - and you spend most of your time moping - then a qilin can be petty. Besides, she tried to eat me when we were both young during the First Age. As a respectable qilin, I hold no grudge, but I am petty enough to remind her that she failed." The scent of spring about him gave way to the scent of summer, and Oblivioncaller could almost taste the salt in the air from waves lapping against some distant shore. "Besides, her children like me, and that is the greatest revenge of all."
"Busy," Yifeng replied. The qilin trotted in a slow circle, pacing in a way that reminded Oblivioncaller of the dwarves he had once known, albeit those dwarves often staggered due to the alcohol they were so fond of. "But in a good way. I rule a herd no longer."
"I would ask if some tragedy has befallen your herd, but you are in high spirits, so that cannot be so." Oblivioncaller bared his teeth in a grin. "Then... have you finally managed to shirk your responsibilities?"
Yifeng bared his teeth in return. It was not an expression that meant the same thing amongst qilin, for their smiles were not so fearsome as those of dragons, but Yifeng had taken to using it after spending time around Oblivioncaller in their youth. Of course, he only used it around Oblivioncaller. Had he bared his teeth at another qilin, the results would not have been good. "As always, you see clearly. I have sired several sons over the Ages, and as each has become worthy, I have passed a portion of the herd to them. His conduct during the Sixth Catastrophe showed my youngest son worthy, and so I entrusted the rest of my herd to him."
"Leaving you free to wander the world as you did in the days when the gods still walked the world."
Yifeng inclined his head. "There are many kinds of wind, my friend. Some blow over the same lands every season, but others seldom bless the same lands twice." His gaze grew wistful. "The world was big then, and I was small. I wished to see it all. When the Broken God laid waste to the Great Herd, I set aside my days of wandering, for I had duties to both the living and the dead. I will gladly be called a wanderer, but let none say I am disloyal!" Yifeng stepped down, and though his hoof did not touch the sand, a cloud bloomed beneath it and for a moment, the hiss of autumn leaves in the wind filled the air. "For all these Ages, I have done my duty to help restore the qilin. Added together, the herds my sons now command are far greater than the herd I ruled. The Great Herd is no more, but perhaps you might call it the Middling Herd, at least my portion of it. I have done enough... and now, now I wander again as I was made to do, as I was born to do, as I dreamed of doing."
"You have my congratulations," Oblivioncaller said. And he meant it. Dragons were meant to fly. To be denied the sky was, for most of them, worse than death. His friend was meant to wander, not merely travel with a herd, but wander free and far, as only a lone traveller could. "But have you come here to gloat, old friend, or are you perhaps hoping I still have some of that dwarf brew remaining? I am too large to enjoy it properly, but you are small enough to savour it."
It had always been a point of amusement that as time had passed, Oblivioncaller had only continued to grow in size. Yifeng, however, had not achieved gargantuan proportions. It was simply not how qilin were. In terms of size, they were closer to unicorns and their ilk in how they grew. Yes, Yifeng was larger than any qilin not of the First Age, but the differences between small qilin and large qilin paled in comparison to the differences between dragons.
"I am a qilin. I have no need for such things." Yifeng looked away. "Although if you have any you don't need, I would gladly take it off your hands. As for why I am here, old friend, I bring a gift."
"A gift?"
"Yes. You mope far too much for my liking. I thought you could use some company."
"Company?" Oblivioncaller frowned faintly. It was well known that few could endure his presence for long. Yifeng could, to some degree, because he was a primordial qilin. Where he walked, the world was blessed. No corruption could slay him, and rot and decay dared not lay their hands on him. He was fire and storm and spring, mighty enough to slay legends but so pure that in his presence not even blades of grass need fear being trod underfoot. He was one of the few beings in the world who could look at the average unicorn and dare to call them filthy. And he was exactly the type to do so, if those unicorns grew too arrogant. "Such a thing is not easy for me to acquire, old friend."
"Perhaps you have simply not found the right company yet." And with that Yifeng's magic flexed, and a plant appeared beside him. It was a small thing, more of a shrub than a tree, and its leaves were a strange colour, as though forever trapped in the browns, oranges, and yellows of autumn. In truth, it was a fairly miserable looking thing, and Oblivioncaller would never have looked twice at it, if not for one thing... the power that bled out of him, the same power that had bleached the sands white, that power... was not killing the plant.
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"What in the world...?" Oblivioncaller stared at the plant in amazement. "Where did you find such a thing?"
"In the shadow of a ruined continent, on the shores of a lake scarred by black fire," Yifeng said simply. "I saw a single plant growing. To think anything could grow there... I was impressed by its tenacity, and when I felt the power inside it, I was sure." He smiled as best he could. "It took root in soil ruined by your flame, my friend. As for how... it may not look it, but the power of the stars dwells in it, and what are the stars if not the closest thing to eternal?"
Alarm flashed through Oblivioncaller. "What? If this thing is related to the Fifth Catastrophe, it must be destroyed!"
"Peace, old friend." Yifeng's voice turned soothing. "I am a qilin. I know fire. I know purity. I know life. The foe you faced was a cruel, cunning, evil creature. Of that, you need not doubt. But he was different once, or so the power he left behind tells me. He may have forgotten his purpose, or perhaps cast it aside, but the fire and light that forged him were purer than anything our world has ever known. This plant, humble though it may appear, was born of the blood that was spilled when great Ashheart and mighty Doomwing struck together. That blood must have soaked into the soil scorched by your fire. And though it took more than an Age, this plant was born, nourished and protected by that blood, born with the ability to endure the desolation and corruption and grow stronger from them." His voice softened, and there was such hiraeth in it that Oblivioncaller almost wept. "And when I felt the power that dwelt in the plant, I knew I could not destroy it. How could I? How could I let harm come to it when... you must feel it yourself. You will understand. You will know for yourself that there could not be anything evil about this plant despite its origins."
And so Oblivioncaller reached out and touched what was closest to a soul within the plant, and then he recoiled as if struck. Fear... was it fear that filled him? No. It was disbelief. It was joy. It was... it was many things all at once, most of which he could name, but together, they combined into something that defied description. A longing, child-like and desperate, for places, times, and people who were long gone, for an Age so far in the past that even for him it was almost more legend than memory.
"It feels... almost like the gods." Oblivioncaller's voice trembled. "It is not them, but it is... it reminds me of them."
The qilin nodded sombrely. "We know there are other worlds. And if there are other worlds, there must be other gods. The Fifth Catastrophe, you felt it too when you faced him. He was a piece of something infinitely greater, the barest, tiniest sliver of a star brought down from the heavens. But something must have created the gods. Something must have created the stars. Blood does not lie. The Fifth Catastrophe was an evil creature, but the power in his blood... whatever made him, whoever made him... they made the gods too."
Oblivioncaller closed his eyes. Seven Ages of memories fell upon him, and the weight of them all was almost crushing. And yet, he could feel no falsehood in anything that Yifeng said. There was a... rightness to it that he had not felt in a long time. It was the same rightness that he had felt when the gods spoke of the truths of the world. And it was the same terrible, cruel rightness he had felt when the Fifth Catastrophe spoke of Truths. The gods who had made their world and their great foe from the Fifth Age were not the same, but they were related, cousins perhaps. He and the other primordial dragons had not been able to sense it at the time. The Fifth Catastrophe's power had been too great to ignore, too overwhelming to contemplate. But this single plant, born of the Catastrophe's blood, told the truth, the Truth hidden behind the Catastrophe's wrath and desire to bring ruin.
"Why bring this to me?" Oblivioncaller whispered. "Why not Doomwing or one of the others?"
"Because you are my friend," Yifeng said. "I trust you. And because... it needs you, perhaps as much as you need it." The qilin nodded. "I have tried everything in my power to get it to grow further. It has remained this size for decades. But I have a theory. As day gives way to night, as life and death are intertwined, and as dead leaves fall to earth and eventually nourish new life, so too does this plant grow by using the fire and light within it to refine the corruption and decay your flame and power carry. With me, it will never grow. But with you..."
Oblivioncaller took a deep, deep breath. "Are you sure?"
"Look at it," Yifeng said. "Does it not look happier here?"
Oblivioncaller studied the plant intently. It did indeed look happier somehow. Its leaves were swaying softly in a breeze only it could feel, and there was a faint but lustrous sparkle when he looked closely. "It does."
"Then can I leave it in your care, old friend?" Yifeng asked.
"You may." Oblivioncaller swallowed thickly. "And... thank you."
"What are friends for?" Yifeng said. "But now that we have settled that matter, would you like to hear of my travels?"
"Naturally," Oblivioncaller replied. "You always seem to get up to mischief."
"Mischief?" Yifeng laughed. "I prefer to think of it as adventuring. Now, there was this angry leviathan I bumped into while I was exploring this archipelago. I remember meeting him in the First Age. He was a boor then, and he has only grown more boorish since..."
Almost a month had passed since Yifeng's visit. The qilin had only stayed for a day, but that had been a happy day indeed.
Oblivioncaller had placed the plant in what felt like a good spot and layered protective magic around it. He would undoubtedly have to share the... truth he and Yifeng had stumbled upon with the other primordial dragons. They might doubt at first, but they would understand once they felt the power inside the plant for themselves. He had only delayed this long because he wanted to focus solely on ensuring the plant settled in properly. It was a priceless treasure. He dared not risk being careless, and he doubted having the others all arrive at once would be good for it.
Still, he had to be doing something right. Over the past month, the shrub had changed. It looked less like a shrub now and more like a little tree. He smiled. Perhaps one day it might even grow large enough to provide shade, not that he needed any.
He was just about to provide the tree with a little more of his power when the tree twitched, and he suddenly found himself staring at what appeared to be a little girl made of wood.
The little girl stared at him for a long moment and then rushed over to him. She was impossibly tiny compared to him, but she happily threw herself at one of his claws.
"Thank you for taking care of me! Now, I can finally talk!"
Oblivioncaller just stared. Yifeng hadn't just brought back a plant. He'd brought back a dryad!
As the little dryad continued to do her best to hug his gigantic claw, Oblivioncaller took a deep, deep breath.
He needed to tell Doomwing about this. Right now.
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