Impasse

Silovar transforms back into human form, hissing with pain as he grabs his bleeding shoulder. He nods at Osthryn, "It's okay, he won't kill you now." Osthryn hesitates, but trusting Silovar and realising she would not likely be able to do much against Geolu even if she were fully in her scales, she falls back into her human form.


"Such a weak habit you have, Silovar. I begin to think you despise your true form," Geolu comments in disgust. Blood still drips from his gold scales, but Osthryn notices that the wounds have already begun stitching themselves up. She looks at Silovar, still holding his wounded shoulder. She frowns, if Geolu could heal himself so easily, why was Silovar still wounded? Was the silver still having a residual effect on his system?


"Whether I despise it or not, Osthryn is my guest, and I take whatever form is most comfortable for her." Silovar says, his eyes locking with Geolu.

Osthryn senses Silovar is telling Geolu something, but she cannot make it out. Geolu pauses a moment, and then looks at Osthryn in genuine surprise. It was but a moment before the large gold Dragon shrinks down into his human form.

He walks straight to Osthryn, and clasps her hands in his. "Whether from the second sun, or beyond it from the first. Whether from the North, the lands of your birth. Whether from the valley or mountain that you have called your own, your wings have carried you upon the winds of home. Welcome, child. It is heartening to see such a young descendant of those who stayed behind. How many still survive?"


Osthryn shakes her head, "I do not know how many we are. The last time that I knowingly spoke to a Dragon before coming South was more than two hundred years ago."


"Knowingly spoke to a Dragon? What on Petra could you mean?" Geolu asks, genuinely perplexed. Osthryn frowns, "We live in disguise. We will not see each other unless we disclose it, and that is risky by nature." Geolu's golden-brown eyes start in disbelief, "Child! Even if you are in disguise you shall not need to ask if another in disguise is a Dragon, you would know it immediately!"


Osthryn removes her hands from Geolu's grip. Her gaze keeps flitting back to Silovar's shoulder, the state of it distracting her from having any productive conversation. "I was never taught to know it," she explains. "Taught? You do not need to be taught. It is inherent."


Silovar steps forward, "If I may be so rude, let me suggest that we go somewhere where we can sit down. Geolu, the North and what was left behind is the main subject of our visit, but Osthryn's abilities are hers alone to discuss." Geolu puts his hands in the air, his shoulder-length white-gold hair dancing with the movement. "Then so be it."


The three trek up into the mouth of the cave. It is sparse for the most part, but then Geolu leads them into a small furnished room. "I do not use this often, as I do not enjoy being in human form for too long, but it is necessary if you want to have any semblance of intellectual stimulation, unfortunately," Geolu gestures at the tall bookshelves covering the northernmost wall. Silovar sits, and Osthryn immediately moves to examine his shoulder. Geolu frowns, "Silovar, should your shoulder not have been healed by now?"


Osthryn spreads her palm over the ingress point of Geolu's talons. She closes her eyes. The tendons and muscles surrounding the joint come into view. They appear to be stretching toward each other, reaching to be whole, but they struggle. It is almost like Silovar's inherent healing magic keeps getting blocked by something.

Osthryn's blood runs cold. There must still be some silver in his system. They were able to heal his nerves, and he himself was able to complete the healing the night before, but there must still be some disconnect left over that is impeding his natural healing factor. She presses her fingers against the wound firmly, and watches as the green light of her magic weaves between the fibres, stitching the shoulder together.


"It must be the after-effects of the silver," Silovar says, looking from his shoulder to Geolu. "Now this," Geolu's voice lilts with excitement as he sits in a high-backed armchair with a flourish, "Is definitely a sit-down discussion."


"To cut a long story longer," Silovar begins, Osthryn taking the seat next to him, "I began to suspect that some of the human court mages in Mountainkeep were probing for a Dragon among their ranks. I know there was an increase in tomes mentioning the shapeshifting abilities of Dragons, as well as our inherent capacity for sustained magic without too much dependence on the sun. This was not too interesting to me, since a rumour of an ability is just that, a rumour. There is no way for a human mage to detect what I am, unless I show them.

 Despite that, I noticed more and more speculation about the possibility of a Dragon 'among them' over the past several decades. This past year, in particular, was especially clear that a conspiracy theory of a Dragon in human skin in the Keep had taken root. It was mostly relegated to a few mages, and generally regarded as a spook story, so I paid it little mind.

But, the gradual decrease in the magical ability of humans as the second sun shrank over the last few centuries has become especially clear this last few months. Oswald came to me several times with connections that he himself noticed from the differences in how historical sources discuss magic over time..."


"Oh, you and your pets," Geolu interrupts, "You simply cannot get enough of them. That Oswald of yours is still alive? The poor creature must be desperately on his last legs by now. What is it, 50 years, that you have held on to that one?"


Silovar falls silent, his jaw clenching.

 "To make a short story shorter," Osthryn interrupts, sensing an impending derail in the conversation, "Magic has been blacking out. Oswald knows this and suspects it is connected to the receding sun, so it is likely that many other mages and scribes have made that connection too. There is a group that Silovar feels has been trying to root him out as a Dragon. Yesterday evening, there was a meeting held by the king. Someone poisoned Silovar's wine with silver powder. I noticed black lines on the hands and neck of the mage who taunted him before the fact, and the same lines on the priestess who came to tend him after he was taken to his rooms."


"Black lines. Are you sure?" Geolu asks Osthryn.

 "Yes. I am sure. I think they are Necromancers."

Geolu levels his gaze at Silovar, "Those vermin take everything from us, boy. We taught them their magic. We gave them the connection to the suns. And just when both suns are strong enough in the sky, they feel they are powerful enough to carry on themselves and they reject our teachings. There is a reason why we withdrew. And now that they feel their power waning, they turn on us to harvest us for their gain. Leave, Silovar, flee and disappear. Until the Darkening has fully come. Only then will they be teachable. Find another place, claim another city for you to pick your pets from, and begin again. Leave them to burn themselves into the ground."


"You know that is not what I do, Geolu." Silovar says, his voice boiling with a dangerous undertone. "They are not my pets. They are my friends. They are beings worthy of respect. I despise the callousness with which you ... dismiss them."


Geolu sighs, "You despise far more, I am sure. You sound so tragically like her ancestors". Geolu shoves a finger in Osthryn's direction, "Her people insisted that they could be saved. That they can be helped. They were hunted down like game in return. And yet, when we tried to protect them and fight back, her people pushed us out! They spouted just the same nonsense about the dignity of these creatures as you do now. That got them driven to near extinction by the Necromancers they refused to fight, and shrunk into hiding like cowards."


"What did the Necromancers do to them, Geolu?'' Osthryn interjects, watching Silovar's mounting anger from the corner of her eye.

"Your elders never told you? Were they so ashamed of the identity they gave up and the creature they made of you? The Necromancers killed them. Then resurrected them. Then killed them. Then resurrected them. Over, and over, and over, drinking the magic they bled until their veins were turned pitch black. It continued until we put a stop to it. Those that stayed behind have no right to call themselves Dragons."


"That does not have to happen here," Silovar insists, standing. "I have influence. The magic they shall gain by necromancy will not be sustainable. They are smart enough to see it."


Geolu laughs, a rolling, maniacal cackle. "You, you have such faith in your pets! At least Osthryn is a worthwhile one, while she is no true Dragon, I suspect she will last you longer than your usual pick."


Geolu has hardly any time to finish his last sentence before Silovar grabs Osthryn by the hand, pulling her to her feet.