1061 New Era.
150 years before the birth of Geralt of Rivia.
Shaerrawedd.
A couple of days later.
Merinelteratsin, also known as Merlin.
“Merlin.” The measured voice of the elven Elder rang out as he glided smoothly into the room, but still interrupted my story about the pribozhki.
About the ones I had first led away from the future war zone, and about the smaller groups I had escorted later.
“And I am glad to see you too, Elder,” I replied with irony, tearing my gaze away from Nimue, who had been listening to my story.
“Recently, the first clash occurred between the human troops and the supporters of our White Rose,” he said with obvious sarcasm, pronouncing the nickname of the uprising’s leader with a twitch of his cheek.
“And the first losses have appeared.”
“Undoubtedly, the pace of Aelirenn’s madness is increasing,” I agreed, stretching slightly on the couch where Nimue sat beside me in a lotus position.
“But I told you — no direct support.
Otherwise, it will only convince them that their ideas are right.”
“I remember,” Simlas nodded dryly, stopping a few meters away.
“I never thought I would wish for my own people’s defeat, but that’s exactly what I want now.
Let them learn on their own skin how painful disobedience to the elder and wiser can be.
My request is that you fly over a few human settlements and divert some of their forces from a clash with one of the White Rose’s groups.
She has appointed her own commanders to the squads, and one of them is ready to listen to my words after the recent battle.”
“You want to plant seeds of discord in her revanchist movement?” I said, half-stating it, and received a barely perceptible nod from aep Dabair.
“Well, I don’t mind scaring some people.
What about you, Nimue?”
“Two-legs look funny when someone bigger than them shows up,” the mentioned dragoness grinned in her elven guise.
“They run around so amusingly, fuss, shout something…
How could I disagree, especially since you, Merlin, won’t grumble about it?”
“Yeah, I keep forgetting that between the two of us, I’m the voice of reason…” I shook my head, rose from my seat, and turned my gaze to the Elder.
“Show us exactly where we need to fly and scare the people.”
“At least three days’ delay is needed for the troops that arrived two days ago in these human settlements…” Simlas pulled a map from a space that rippled in the air (rippling along with our and Nimue’s right eyes) and spread it on the table.
Getting up from the couch we’d claimed, I soon watched as the elf traced his finger between two human settlements that were unusually close to each other.
“The villages of Badger Ravine and Beeches?” I read aloud, thoughtfully touching my chin.
“Recently founded.”
“Then they’re very small, and there probably aren’t any walls, and people run fastest in those…” the supposedly golden-haired elf maiden commented disappointedly.
“There are enough troops stationed there to match the population of cities,” Simlas glanced at my companion-friend, who was still sitting on the couch and immediately grinned at his words.
“They will even shoot arrows at you.
But nothing more serious is expected, since, as you noted, there won’t be any solid stone walls.”
“Then it’ll even be fun!
To see their utter helplessness and despair!” The golden dragoness in the guise of a young elf maiden seemed to be smiling…
But there was something in her smile…
Sinister.
Not only I noticed it, but also the elven Elder, who glanced at her with an unreadable expression.
Alas, my skills at reading faces and glances weren’t great enough to decipher an Elder who was definitely over five centuries old.
“We don’t need their destruction, respected Nimue.
Just a delay…
Otherwise, there will be no one left to defeat our youth, unburdened by reason and patience,” Simlas pressed with his gaze, making Nimue roll her eyes — the elven Sage had long since stopped fearing us.
Because he understood that simple arguments wouldn’t force him to face a pair of huge flying reptiles.
“I wasn’t even planning to set anything on fire, let alone exterminate anyone…” the dragoness snorted displeasedly, resting her cheek on her palm.
“I’ll just fly around, mock the little humans, and then, Merlin, we’ll get back to our sorcerous duels.
At least that looks interesting…”
“Was I ever against it?” I raised my eyebrows, baring my teeth slightly.
“Now let’s go — let’s not give the humans more time to redeploy…”
“To what?” Nimue raised her eyebrows, jumping off the couch and following me.
“Oh Gods, whatever ones they are, but…
Have you even read those books I showed you?” I asked with a note of resignation, walking out of the room.
“They’re frankly boring.
Why do I need to know the principles of two-leg combat?
I’m a dragoness, not some elf maiden…
Even if I look like one now,” the golden-haired figure muttered ironically, tugging slightly at the fabric of her clothes, which resembled some kind of exotic robe.
Where did she even dig up that style of clothing?..
“You need to know your enemy,” I shared wisely, since the role of raising this dragoness had fallen to me.
Of course, she was supposed to talk me out of trouble, but as usual in such situations, something went wrong, heh.
“Oh, come on.
You fuss over these two-legs like unhatched eggs…
And now they’re enemies?” Nimue’s golden eye, slanted toward me, sparkled with genuine interest.
“Even if we’re building relations with them, that’s the nature of many sentient beings — black ingratitude.
After all, they don’t have hundreds or thousands of years of life like we do,” I launched into another explanation of the situation.
“Hmm…
I’ll say this — it’s no coincidence you chose the guise of a two-leg elder as your second form.
There really is…
wisdom in you,” she said with genuine interest in her golden eyes.
“I don’t fully know what that is, but…
My father, despite all our disagreements, definitely has it.
And you’re alike in that.”
“What wisdom?” I waved it off with an ironic chuckle, jumping off the palace balcony in the most banal way.
“Just the ability to read books.”
“And modesty too, so valued by two-legs.
How amusing,” the golden dragoness said in a satisfied tone as she jumped after me.
“I’m starting to find qualities in a dragon attractive that would be considered signs of weakness for a dragon.”
“Well, well.
If anyone considers the ability to read a weakness, let them say it to my face,” I bared all my teeth in a grin, walking away from any buildings.
“We’ll see what they dare say then.”
A barely perceptible golden glow enveloped my body.
“Right now, your mother would have been glad to see you…” Nimue replied with a laugh, looking up at my enormous dragon body from below.
“Too bad you rarely show this side of yourself.”
Another golden glow, and right next to me appeared an identical golden dragoness, only smaller.
A few dozen seconds later, where two golden dragons had been, there were now two black dragons.
The only ones of their kind that spewed not poison, but flame…
Let’s see how many legends people will invent about us and send Witchers to hunt.
And how many dragons the latter will have to find — dragons that will only appear during this senseless war between elves and humans.
A sharp beat of four wings sent all the dust in the area flying into the air, and the trees bent slightly.
We were still measuring our strength and didn’t break anything in the elven palace.
Time to play the huge fire-breathing bogeymen.
…Hmm…
Shouldn’t I practice an evil dragon laugh?..
* * *
Some time later.
The village of Beeches.
A recently founded village, only two dozen years old, had been hosting the king’s soldiers for days now…
And if you asked any villager how much of a problem this was, he’d first look around, make sure no soldiers were nearby…
Then make sure you weren’t a soldier or a spy working for them, and preferably that you were a close acquaintance — because a villager is a very cautious person…
And only after all that would he complain about the invading troglodytes.
How disgustingly much they ate, how horribly they behaved, how they groped all the village girls…
And even their commanders couldn’t do anything about it…
At least, not until you parted with your hard-earned money…
And the worst part was, they thought their war with the elves would be easy.
But the villagers, suffering from the Long-Ears’ attacks, had heard from their neighbors about their agility in the forest — catching them was like trying to catch the wind with your hands!
The Long-Ears weren’t fools — they wouldn’t charge into an open field against a dashing knightly cavalry!
So it turned out that the soldiers were just eating the peasants’ supplies for nothing and ruining the girls…
Who would marry spoiled goods after that?
…But as it turned out, these were just the flowers, which could be endured and survived.
Unlike the berries, which two huge shadows cast over the entire village and the nearby tents of soldiers and junior officers.
The senior ones had comfortably settled in the village headman’s house, kicking his family out to their relatives.
“Hmm?” A man who wasn’t old but not young either looked up in confusion — he had founded the village with his comrades when he was young, and had only recently turned fifty.
“What the hell is that…”
If the village headman hadn’t served in the king’s army in his youth, he would have definitely shit his pants — but on the battlefield, even an ordinary conscripted villager sees all kinds of shit.
Two huge figures of black, scaly creatures, as if crawled out of hell itself, were approaching the village from the sky!
Oh, he had seen such creatures before, but only briefly and from afar — and he would never mistake them for any other flying vermin.
This pair was definitely dragons — the most terrifying creatures, for whose killing it wasn’t shameful to turn even to the cursed mutant witchers…
But even those sometimes got scared and refused, hiding their cowardice or reasonable caution behind funny words like “we don’t kill sentient beings” while some of their kind worked as hired killers!
Who would believe them when they killed a man, but wouldn’t kill a monster that ate people and livestock?
What blatant lies!
“Lord Count!” the middle-aged man burst into his own house with a loud cry, startling the aristocrat commanding the stationed troops.
“What are you doing, you wretch?
You dare disturb a nobleman, you peasant cur?” a knight of Kaedwen of considerable girth rose menacingly from behind the table.
“Don’t have me killed…” the village headman replied, glancing at the sword being drawn from its sheath.
Another man might have been scared, but not one who had been through war.
“But there are dragons!
Real ones…”
“Dragons?
Perhaps, old man, you’ve mistaken them for slyzards or wyverns?
I don’t even see any flame!” he pointed the tip of his sword toward the open entrance and the nearby windows.
“They’re huge, Count Valtos, they’re too huge!
I fought…
I saw such things in the distance!” the village leader insisted.
“Please, believe me…”
“Tch.
Only for your long service to my fatherland…” the Kaedweni aristocrat threw out irritably, walking out of the room with a sharp stride.
The village headman, who had jumped out of his way just in time, followed, and soon all four of them (two of the count’s attendants also moved with them) watched as two huge creatures circled high above the village.
“Damn it…
And they told me the rebel elf forces would be very small…” one of the count’s attendants, a young man in strange long robes, muttered displeasedly.
“That the main elf forces were in Aedirn…
I’d rather face large forces of Long-Ears than these creatures…”
“Lord Sorcerer?” the aristocrat turned to the speaker, making the village leader recoil in fear.
In his war, he had seen what sorcery could do…
And he would never forget it.
“Count…
These are two true dragons.
Not pathetic wyverns, not some slyzards…” the sorcerer spat on the ground, extending his palm to the side and igniting genuine magical flame on it.
“And?” the knight asked in response, still gripping his sword.
“I was told you were a powerful sorcerer who could use fire so that the elven forests would burn.”
“The elven forests will burn…” the sorcerer nodded irritably.
“Don’t doubt that…
But I doubt that the scales of two true dragons will burn so easily…
And even though black dragons don’t spew flame, but poison, their size will still cause us problems…
After all, black dragons are also the largest of dragons, and these specimens…
You can see for yourself!”
“And what do you suggest, Sorcerer Wizlium?
Run away?” the aristocrat said with growing displeasure and anger, having spent too much to lead his kingdom’s punitive army.
“Do you think I’ll agree to that?”
“Nope.
But you won’t sign me up for that kind of fight either…
And theoretically, I could try to drive off or destroy the smaller of the vermin with your soldiers…
But…” the short-haired sorcerer shook his head.
“You won’t make me fight a big dragon…
Clearly old and powerful.” Now the fire in the sorcerer’s hand looked even more understandable.
It was protection not so much from the huge creatures as from the people.
“I will report…” the aristocrat began, but was immediately interrupted by the same sorcerer:
“Report wherever you like.
My fellow sorcerers will understand me, because I was hired to burn elven forests, not to try to kill adult dragons!” With steely certainty in his gaze, the warlock fixed it on his employer, who chose not to escalate the confrontation beyond words.
“Haaah…
Fine, let’s say.
But if they attack, you will help me defend myself, won’t you?” the count asked, lowering his sword tip with furrowed brows, completely forgetting about the village headman standing nearby.
“Defend — yes.
The death of an employer not due to his own stupidity…” the aristocrat’s nostrils flared angrily at the hint of a possible attempt to kill the two dragons.
“…wouldn’t reflect well on me.
So I advise getting out of here, or…
offering them something to eat.
They’re clearly not circling here for nothing.”
“Beasts,” the aristocrat growled displeasedly, sheathing his sword, realizing they couldn’t do much against the huge creatures.
And it wasn’t worth the risk, even for the glory of a dragon slayer.
“Beasts?
Oh no, true dragons are as sentient as we are, the elves, dwarves, gnomes, and all the others…” the sorcerer chuckled mockingly, also extinguishing his magical flame.
“So consider them huge flying, scaly humans.
Who want to eat and consider us bugs.”
“Either way — you know more than I do about various creatures.
What shall we do?” the aristocrat urged his assistant, folding his arms over his chest.
“Call over that frozen village headman…
Have him bring out some sheep, pigs, or cows away from the village and put them in a pile,” the young sorcerer nodded toward the almost-old man trying to blend into the scenery.
“Better some village livestock than a fight with creatures losing their patience…
They’re huge…” he grimaced displeasedly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Hey, you!” the aristocrat called out to the mentioned villager.
“You heard what my sorcerer said!
Get to work!..”