BECMI Chapter 330 – More than a Dragon’s Throne

The white streaks and flaring on her blue scales had grown greater in size and emphasis, even glowing slightly. Even at rest, her eyes now glowed like LED lights, and could flare to nearly spotlight levels of brilliance if she grew agitated.The Hall of the Oath now had a double throne, a throne within a throne, that a dragon could coil around.

Cirruluxul looked down upon the gold dragon before her there, regarding her back with some trepidation.

It had definitely never seen a blue dragon that looked like her, seething with the power of the Storm.

Cirruluxul, the Lady of the Dragon’s Oath.

The tower was sparking with lightning, showing Cirru was in residence, and could be approached by other dragons who desired to swear the Oath and seek a lair in the Rings of Fire. The Gold had come to see if he was willing to do so.

“Mistress Edge does not administer the Oath to Dragons,” Cirru stated with only some small pride. “I administer the Oath. This is a matter of dragons, and she makes no secret of her lack of desire to insert herself into the middle of the business of our kind.

“If you desire to live in the Rings of Fire and Storm, you will Swear to this Oath, and abide by it. If you do not, then you leave immediately, and not return upon pain of becoming spell components for her Rituals.”

The Gold was an Ancient, her senior in age by two hundred years. The Gold and Amber dragons were the largest and most powerful of all dragons, the most intelligent, the most magically adept, and also the fewest in number thereby. Even the aggressive and powerful Reds had to bow to them in combat and magic.

Cirruluxul had to do no such thing. Her claws and teeth were incredibly white, and seemed to spark inside with voltage, preternaturally sharp and perfected in shape and size and lethality. There was a sinuous danger in her movements, the ripple of scales over muscle, and a readiness to do combat that fairly radiated off of her.

The Gold dragon was larger than her, older than her, and had no confidence whatsoever that it could best her in a fight.

The storm raging around the chamber echoed with thunder, as if agreeing with him.

The Gold dragon bowed his head warily to the strange Blue dragon that served the Lady Edge directly, clearly far greater than other Blues of the same age, who all spoke of her with wariness and trepidation. Her speed and agility a-flight especially earned a great deal of attention, flitting about the sky with the ease of a wyrmling, and faster than a great wyrm barreling defiantly through the winds.

“I will hear of this Oath, and if it is not to my satisfaction, I will depart these lands and not contest them with the Lady or the dragons here,” the Gold agreed carefully.

“The terms of the Oath are there.” A section of the floor before the Gold arose smoothly and silently from the unbroken, claws-defying stone of the floor. One by one, Words in Draconic, suffused with power, lit up on the face of the darkstone there, either drawing his eyes in or following his careful study, he could not really tell.

The Lady of the Oath watched him unwinkingly. Cirru had already had to enter combat with older and seemingly stronger dragons who had spurned the Oath, falling upon them out of the storm and either slaughtering them or driving them forth in savage combat.

Behind the throne, the stacked spoils of her efforts gleamed and glittered, hoards claimed for her own, signs of her status and strength and power for any dragon to look upon and measure her strength. The fading echoes of the previous owners of the hoards were apparent to any dragon who set eyes upon them, a dire warning to all of them.

One of those was a Venerable Blue which had arrogantly assumed that Lady Edge would not care if he claimed one of the distant Fangs in the Fourth Ring, close enough to the waters that hunting in the sea would not be difficult.

Cirru had waited until he moved his hoard, then fallen out of the sky onto her elder like a thunderbolt and torn him apart in pitched combat. She wielded primal lightning that his immunity to electricity did not protect him from, sparking teeth and claws rending his scales like tofu and ripping open grievous wounds he could not counter.

His death cry had echoed through the many claw-like peaks reaching for the sky and off the rivers of lava flowing through the bottoms of the valleys.

It had been six months since she’d had to kill another dragon infringing on the territory of her and her mistress. The Oath-bound dragons of the Ring of Fire had taken to warning off their kin, even chasing them off if required, as when Cirruluxul attacked, she killed the trespassers without fail.

The dragons were also supremely aware of a presence watching from the storms overhead when she attacked, and knew the Lady Edge was watching over her.

Taken from NovelFire, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

A shadow moved up behind her, looming above the throne, wingspread greater than her own now, rippling with strength and power.

The dragons had not seen the Lady Edge riding Cirruluxul even once around these lands. Outside the Rings of Fire, yes, she had been seen being carried about in distant places.

But here, the Lady Edge was only ever seen riding the roc-sized Bat called Duum, whose shrieks could split draconic scale and his claws rend the hide and bone of wyrms. The one Amber wyrm who had thought to settle in the Ring of Fire without swearing Oath had died in combat with the great Bat, ears blown out, hide shredded, teeth shattered, eyes burst, and the like.

The wyrm’s hoard had been uncaringly heaped in with Cirruluxul’s, but to a dragon’s eyes, was clearly separate, and had been lined with the leather from the wings of dragons, smelling of the shadowy musk of the great Bat.

Cirruluxul’s long tail flickered up, voltage running within her spinal crest as it traced a familiar sparkling line along Duum’s great wing. Crimson arcs met and matched it as the crimson pools of the Bat’s eyes regarded the Gold dragon with neutral apathy and a patient lack of interest.

The monocle and over-sized top-hat perched jauntily on his huge ears just looked so strange…

There were whispers of very improper relationships between the Bat and the Lady of the Oath, but never spoken to her face. Dragons often had whimsical and transient relationships with humanoids, and some of the more depraved would breed with many different kinds of creatures, exploring the sensory options and pleasures of multiple forms.

But… a Bat? It was just… so strange…

The Gold, commonly called Mulurmvie among dragons, just hid his sigh and reserved his opinion to himself. Dragons had their own reasons and ways of doing things, and if they were inscrutable even to other dragons, that was all part of the game.

“A question for the Lady of the Oath,” he said respectfully. Her glowing eyes were neutral as she just inclined her head a fraction. “How does a dragon enter service with the Lady Edge?” he asked formally.

The counter-stories of what had actually befallen Darkmoor had spread through the dragons here, and out into the greater world. The Truth ringing through them belittled the false stories and rumors spreading amongst mortals, and smug dragons nodded that they knew the truth, and idiot mortals believed in Immortal lies once again.

“The Lady’s demands upon you would override your own projects and interests. I have put myself at the beck and call of the Lady, and so I may remain by her side. I may leave at any time, and I choose not to do so. I came to her service by fate when young, and have remained here for the rewards and the trust we have in one another.” Her right wing reached up with out looking back and ran along the skull and neck of the Bat standing above her, somehow doing so without looming or denigrating her authority, lightning and blood sparking together as a gentle nuzzling to the wing responded to her touch and words. “If she cannot make use of you, she will deny you. If she can, the rewards are great, but the demands upon your time are, as well.”

Mulurmvie eyed the terms of the Oath.

Among other things, no fighting between the dragons of the Rings. No raiding of one another’s territories or hoards. If there was a disagreement, bring it to the Lady or work it out peaceably. Territories would be precisely defined. If there was violence, Lady Edge would apply judgment and reduce one of the draconic parties to spell components, appropriate their hoard, and reallocate their territory.

If there was an invasion, the dragons could be mustered to respond at the command of the Lady Edge, and would obey her orders.

If the dragons raided outside the Rings, there would be no support from the Lady, and if heroes came in to take vengeance for such raids, that was their problem to deal with.

The dragons would pay for their residence in service and shed scales and eggshells. If blood was requested, it would be compensated for.

If the dragons sought magical power or knowledge, they had the right to petition and bargain for Lady Edge’s time and attention.

If they wished to serve her directly, they could make that appeal for greater rewards.

If they took a mate and had children, such were subject to all matters of the Oath and the limits to their parent’s territories.

If all territories were occupied, no new Dragons would be allowed the Oath without entering service with the Lady.

Dragons in direct service to the Lady laired on Castle Doomrose itself, and had no other territory.

A dragon could challenge another for a closer territory to the Heart of the Rings. A dragon could also chose a territory on a further Ring if they so desired, but could not thereafter challenge for a better one. It was a viable option, as it meant they had taken a lair beneath their status and power, so any challengers to their position would likely fail quickly.

This land belonged to the Lady Edge. She could make changes to the terrain as she deemed fit, and no dragons were to interfere with such changes.

An amphitheater would be provided as neutral ground where dragons could meet and debate what matters they so chose. Mulurmvie had seen the place, with over a hundred central positions and a thousand outer ones for lesser dragons to wait and watch, with room for more on the stones if actually needed.

It was a masterpiece of perches that were equidistant, inches higher or lower, with few remaining equal to one another, catering directly to draconic hyperawareness of status in their society, subdivided by age, species, influence, and magical ability as it was. He was also fairly certain that the central perches could also move up or down in response to draconic awareness of social status.

She had provided it as a casual service to the dragons who had filtered in by the months and years, eager to lair in a place thrumming with so much mana of earth, fire, and storm.

Indeed, the outer Fangs of the Rings were also icy cold and wind-whipped, and even Whites and Crystals were arriving for the chance to claim one and the supernatural chill emanating from them for their own!

“I would like to submit my name for the Lady Edge’s attention as a direct servant,” the ancient Gold requested politely. There were too many older dragons occupying the innermost Ring area around the Heart and the Castle Doomrose

There was little reaction from the younger Blue opposite him. He knew other dragons had entered the Lady’s service, but not what they did, as they did not speak of the tasks given to them.

It was noticed, however, that those dragons started to grow stronger with remarkable speed!

“Then tell me of yourself, your deeds, and why you think a Gold would serve well under a mere elfin Wizardess,” Cirruluxul responded dryly, and Mulurmvie considered his words carefully…