Chapter 48 Bonus: Prima Draconis 2

Kishar lazily drifted along the powerful mountain winds, trailing along between the colossal peaks, and sniffing at the air. A herd of some kind of colossal plant eaters had been through here recently. The vegetation had been absolutely ravaged by their passing. If it could bring one down it would be an excellent meal… its bulk took less to fuel than it would for a non-magical creature of its size, but it still took a lot of effort to stay fed. Perhaps Takilnak was onto something by hunting in the oceans more and more often. There were no shortage of great beasts to feast upon in there, but… Kishar’s feathers were hardly the type made for water. 

It had grown nearly double in size since the war, to an imposing three hundred and ninety feet. Tiamat had said that dragons would slow their growth as they got older, and Kishar had started larger than any of the others at the beginning or after. In fact, among the dragons sired after the initial twelve, none had reached the same size as it had started at. 

The dragon supposed it made sense. Tiamat had intended the original twelve to go to war as soon as training was complete, and it and its siblings would need the bulk. Not to mention, there wasn’t much for them to destroy on accident from being unfamiliar with their bodies back then. Now, it was best for dragons to start small, get used to their bodies, and grow into their power. However, this meant that it would forever be the largest. Even the other of the original twelve were fifty feet behind it in size. It could only imagine how large it would be in another few thousand years. It was exhausting. 

A subtle tilt of the wings, and it angled into a wide arcing turn around one of the mountains, allowing itself to coast and lose a bit of altitude. The scent of the beasts was growing stronger. As it finally made it around the stony monolith it spotted them, trihorns. Yes, those would make an excellent meal. They were built to be as imposing as a younger dragon, with armor and horns aplenty, but it was nothing a little fire couldn't handle. Kishar hardly coveted the prospect of being gored by one, so a ranged approach was preferred. 

However, as it prepared to angle down and ready for the kill, another mind brushed against its own, “Sire! There you are! I’ve been tracking you for hours!”

Kishar’s face lit up, and it immediately stopped its pursuit to rise up and hover in place, searching for its son. “Shanu!” It finally glanced up, and found the smaller dragon circling above, making its way down to join it. “Join me on this hunt, and then we can talk. I’m starving. I could spare a shank for you!”

“Sure! I could go for a quick bite!” Its son finally dove down, swept underneath it, and made after the herd of trihorns. It appeared that Shanu’s rider was with him, a bold and adventurous giraffe man by the name of Tirath who had done a lot to bring his dragon out of his shell. Kishar loved them both dearly. Tirath was as good as family.

A pang of jealousy shot through the grand dragon as it followed after. It had never had the opportunity to take a rider. To do so would risk its secret being revealed. Even after two thousand years, not a single soul had learned of its origins. Disaeite and Takilnak, the only survivors of the original twelve to make it out of the war, had questioned it on its lack of a rider many times, but it simply insisted it had no interest in sharing its mind with another. 

After enough questions, Tiamat had agreed to a cover story for its past that simply stated that unlike the other twelve: Kishar had been created from nothing, as the serpents and lions of old had been by Ninazu and Apsu. It was… technically true, but it left out an important step between nothingness and dragonhood that always left it feeling guilt for the lie. Disaeite, Takilnak, and Orythia (even if it barely knew the youngest sibling, sired only a thousand years prior) were its family, its closest friends. Or… perhaps at some point they were. It rarely saw them now. 

Disaeite was always on some mission or task for The Ministry, and Takilnak was still busying himself with the hunt for the eleven serpents who had escaped the final battle of the war. Only three of which had been caught, and he was insistent on hunting them to extinction. Sometimes the two would send word to it to ask it for aid, just to keep in touch, or to come to some family function or another, but it was typically only every century or so.

In fact, Kishar hardly even left the mountains of the Dragonlands. The mountains and wilderness here were wild and rugged enough that few mortals could traverse it, and civilization could only manage to hug around the fringes, along the waterline. The interior had always, and likely would always, belong to dragons. It was a haven for them to live as beasts would, without having to worry about fragile mortal souls being caught in the fray. Tiamat had filled the mountains with great reptilian beasts which posed a challenge to even the most accomplished hunters, and could fill the bellies of even the largest dragons. The summers were harsh, but perfect for a creature of fire such as it, and the winters were tepid. It felt like a paradise for most.

Kishar, though… it didn’t know what would be paradise for it. The solitude of these mountains suited it well, but something never felt quite right. It never felt as if it could truly be at ease. There were many other dragons around, though they typically minded their business, even if Kishar earned many stares for both its size and legendary status. The Aurora of Refuge could hardly fly anywhere without everyone gawking. It had slowly shrunken its territory down to be only the center of the mountains, where winds were too harsh and the prey too aggressive for most, that way it would run into even fewer of its nieces and nephews. It hadn’t actually seen another dragon in nearly a year before its son’s arrival.

Shanu had already reached the herd now, and was using his fire to try and separate off one of the larger bulls from the others. Trihorns were not prey to be taken lightly, and Kishar had taught its son well of this fact in his prior visits. The younger dragon was staying well clear of their reach, and setting the grass around them ablaze to isolate the beast he had his eye on. The rest of the herd had already scattered, while the one at the center of the blaze huffed and trumpeted in terror, unable to flee without being burned.

Kishar quickly swooped down, inhaled, and released a blaze of fire so hot that it was a blinding streak of white, rather than the warm red and orange one might normally expect. The beast shrieked, and collapsed in mere moments, after which Kishar cut the flame off as quickly as possible. Even after two thousand years, its fire element still sat… wrong within it, like its body and soul were mismatched. Well, in a sense they might be, it supposed. It left a pit in its stomach any time it had to use fire. At least its venom felt… mostly right. Its son had even inherited that from it. 

It had seemed that every child of Tiamat had something about them that carried onto their children. Disaeite’s kin all had a bulk similar to hers. Takilnak’s brood shared its stony and earthy scale colors. Orythia, the newest of their siblings, bequeathed her children with insectoid traits of countless different species. 

Kishar had only sired the one, Shanu, its pride and joy, and he had received his sire’s venom and feathers. He had only been transformed nearly three hundred years before. Disaeite had continually and repeatedly assured her sibling of the joys of having a child, and eventually Kishar had agreed to try, hoping it would ease the aching emptiness in its heart that it struggled with every day. Shanu did make it happier while in his presence, but his siring did little to rouse Kishar from its persistent misery. 

“Hah! You make it look so easy, Sire!” The younger dragon dove right in, and dug its teeth into the trihorn’s forelimb, tearing off great strips of charred meat for his own enjoyment. “It’s been too long! Aunt Dis has been asking me to come bug you about visiting! Everyone misses you, you know?”

Another pang of guilt. Kishar pumped its wings to slow its flight, and slammed down behind its son, before craning its neck down and taking off an entire back leg in one bite. “I… tend to let the time get away from me. How long has it been?”

“Almost a hundred years since you’ve been to Fellrock, not since the two thousandth Melting Day celebration.” Shanu stared up at it, scrutinizing his parent’s face as it crushed bone and flesh, and gulped them down. “You’ve not been sleeping well, have you? Is it the… the nightmares again, Sire?”

The great dragon stiffened, and looked away. It regretted ever letting that fact slip. “I… yes. The war weighs heavy on my mind once again.”

“Hey, it’s fine, Sire. You can always talk to me, you know that, right?” Its son stepped up and bumped its horns against its progenitor’s legs. “There’s only a few serpents left. They shouldn’t kill any more dragons. You won’t watch any more kin die.”

Of course Shanu would assume that was its source of its pain. The other dragons… they didn’t view the serpents the way that it did. For Kishar, the war had been watching old kin slaughter new kin, and vice versa. Every serpent it tore asunder with its own claws or roasted with its own flame weighed heavy upon it. To Takilnak and Disaeite they were merely monsters, agents of destruction set upon the populace of the world. Their deaths were morally uncomplicated, like any other magical beast terrorizing the countryside, only more intelligent. Kishar saw a little bit of itself in each and every one. Every night, it witnessed the death of every dragon and serpent it had been present for, again and again. 

“Sire?” Shanu’s concerned voice sounded in its mind once again. 

Right. It couldn’t freeze up like this in front of its son. Kishar shut its eyes tight, and re-centered itself. “I apologize. I… you see- how have you been, Shanu?”

Judging by the suspicion trickling through the link, its deflection had not gone unnoticed, but Shanu thought better of pushing it. His sire had always been closed off, even to the other dragons. That wasn’t going to change today. “I’m siring my own dragon this year. He’s in the academy as we speak. His transformation is scheduled for two weeks from now. I’d like you to be there.” 

Kishar could hear the doubt in its son’s voice. It hadn’t left The Dragonlands in so long, most family had to come find it for a conversation. It couldn’t be relied on to reach out first. Just another item on the mountain of guilt it had for its family. But for this… the rebirth of its grandson, it could visit Fellrock for a time. Truly, it couldn’t bear the thought of missing such a momentous day for its son. “I will be there. When do we leave?”

“So… why aren’t we flying?” Shanu grumbled from his seat on the ferry, now in the form of a giraffe to match his rider. 

“Probably doesn’t want to make a scene,” Tirath rubbed his dragon between the horns and planted a peck on his cheek. “Its feathers shine just as much as yours, more really.”

“Indeed,” Kishar fidgeted with its hands, and stared at its feet. “It is to be you and your son’s big day. I would not want to distract from it. I receive undue attention wherever I go, otherwise.”

“But Sire-!” The dragon leaned forward, ready to argue the point, but was interrupted as the seats around them were taken up.

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you,” a timid viper woman shot the trio a nervous smile, a baby swaddled in her arms, and with three other children in tow. “The ferry is nearly out of seating.”

“It is fine,” Kishar glanced up only briefly to see who it was speaking to, before averting its eyes again. Seeing serpent beastfolk always put a pit in its stomach. It had briefly tried the form of a mamba for when it was shapeshifted, but… it couldn’t. What if someone suspected? No. It would have to continue taking the same human form it always had. “I hope your travels have been treating you well.” 

“Oh… they have and they haven’t,” the snake drooped back into her seat, and directed the eldest of the children to keep an eye on the others. “Making it to the strait… well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how rough the weather was. Snow! This late in spring! Tiamat’s tail, there must be a serpent in those mountains for such a thing.”

“You really think so?” The dragon in the guise of a giraffe leaned over with an eager expression. Far too eager. In his time as a mortal, Shanu had been a hunter. Not of anything particularly dangerous, he merely hunted the smaller game around the edge of the Dragonlands (small, therefore, being relative), and had always been fascinated with the prospect of adding his name to the limited roster of dragons who had killed an ice serpent. In his early years, he’d interrogated his sire repeatedly on its days in the war, hoping to be regaled with one legendary tale of battle or another.

He’d been disappointed every time, but eventually realized how much of a sore subject it was for the first dragon. He simply assumed the wrong reasoning for Kishar’s trepidation. 

“If there is a serpent, then we should stay clear,” the first dragon side eyed its son. The last of the serpents were to be the strongest, fiercest, and most cunning of the bunch, and would need to be a task for a proper hunting party of dragons, not a lone hunter. Especially since Kishar knew that Ningishzida was among the survivors. The elder serpent was to Ninazu’s brood as Kishar now was to Tiamat’s: the oldest, largest, and most dangerous. He had acted as general to the serpents in the war, and the bush viper’s body had never been found, even in the aftermath of the final battle. Kishar spent every day wondering what it was that the old snake could be planning. Truly, it simply hoped the last of the ice serpents would lay low for the rest of time. There had been enough death on both sides.

“But-” Shanu started, but recognized the pained look in his sire’s eyes, and backed down again. “Well, I hope that the rest of the trip has treated you well, at least.” He turned his attention back to the family of vipers. “Are you visiting?”

“We are moving,” the snake beamed. “I am a member of the Jeweler’s Guild, you see. Fellrock is in need of a new guildmaster, and my old guildmaster in Stifilk recommended me for the position.”

“Oh!” Shanu’s face lit up. “I love jewelry! Did you bring any with you that I could buy? I- I actually was intending to get something for my first child. He uh- he’s due any day now.”

“That’s wonderful!” The snake pulled out a pack from her side, and drew out a few rings and necklaces. “For an infant I would avoid a ring, you never know what size he’ll be when he grows older. Perhaps a pendant! Do you have a color preference?”

“Oh, I have no idea what he’ll like…” The dragon rubbed his chin, checking over the numerous options presented. “Ooh… I like this one, actually.” He pointed out a pendant without a gemstone. Instead, it was a piece of solid gold, forged and shaped to resemble a dragon in flight. “How much for it?”

“Don’t worry about it, son,” Kishar smiled, and pulled out his coin purse. “I will cover it.”

“Aww, such a good… grandfather?” The viper got a better look at the human before her, and tilted her head in confusion. The two passengers before her appeared identical in age. “It um… it should only be ten gold.” She formed an uneasy smile at the two, seemingly on to their ruse.

Kishar handed over fifteen. “It will be a gift from the both of us.” 

Each first generation dragon had their own home, built near to the Grand Ziggurat at the center of The Ministry’s complex in Fellrock. Takilnak’s was built along the shore’s of the lake, to the south. Disaeite’s was to the north. Orythia’s was to the west, as the latest to be sired. And Kishar’s was built to the east, so the sun would shine over its own home before any of the others, representing its importance as first dragon. It could see the logic in it, but having it built felt like a waste. Or at least it did until Shanu’s transformation. 

It may as well be its son’s, the way that he had been decorating and remodeling. It seemed as if the main house had been completely torn down and rebuilt. Kishar could see the purpose in it. The structure was ancient, and likely had been rotting from neglect in its time away from home, but it might have at least liked some notice that the change was happening. Oh well. It barely used it anyway. 

It had barely slipped through the front gate, and into the courtyard, when a colossal shadow fell over the trio as they arrived back at home. Disaeite had somehow already found out Kishar was back. Typical. It couldn’t help but smile as the great white dragon slammed down, and charged it headlong, shapeshifting at the last second and tackling it into the wall. “Kishi!”

Kishar had the breath completely knocked out of it by the impact. It had seen it coming, but hadn’t expected its sister to aim so low for the tackle. It gasped and gaped its mouth like a fish out of water, only managing to breathe again after using a spell to siphon air into its lungs. “Dis, must we meet like this every time?” It finally relaxed into the hug, and let a serene smile settle across its features.

“Why break tradition, eh?” She effortlessly picked it up and placed it back on its feet. “I’m so glad you’re back! Have you seen how big the city is getting? They’re in talks about rebuilding the academy from scratch. We need so many priests now that we can’t train enough every year with the old one! Oh! Have you met Shanu’s chosen yet? He’s in classes now, with mine~! I decided enough time had passed, and to put one in for the same session. Hey, maybe you should have another, too, eh? Three in one year?” She grinned wide and toothily, flashing the fangs within her otherwise human mouth. 

“I’ll… think about it,” Kishar chuckled awkwardly. “I may leave it to Shanu to fill out my line, though.”

“Happy to oblige, Sire.” Its son beamed with pride. “I can’t wait for you to meet Jesh. He’s sharp as a tack! A scholar! He’ll probably have a million questions for…” the discomfort upon Kishar’s face quickly deterred the young dragon. “I’ll tell him to go easy on you.”

“Appreciated, thank you.” A beat passed, before Kishar thought to hug its son. “When will I get to meet them both?”

“Mom wanted to see you too, so maybe we could bring my chosen up to the Ziggurat for dinner with her?” Disaeite leaned in close, a hopeful smile upon her features. It was no great secret that out of any of the first generation dragons, Kishar had the most strained relationship with Tiamat. Disaeite knew better than to pry, but would still regularly try to act as an intermediary to bring them together. 

“Yeah! We can get a bunch of the family together at once!” Shanu patted his parent on the back, equally eager as his aunt. “We’ll be missing Takilnak, but I’m sure we could ask Orythia to come. I think I heard she was visiting again too.”

Ah. There might be no getting out of this one. Kishar took a deep breath, and reminded itself that it was doing this for its son. “Very well. I can meet my new grandson and… niece? Nephew? Over dinner with mother.”

“She’ll be your niece,” Disaeite patted her sibling on the cheek. “I should go let her know. See you tonight, Kishi!”

“See you tonight, Dis,” the first dragon pulled the second into a tight hug. It was regretting coming back to the City at the Center of the World less and less every minute.