"Have you ever heard about the First Temple?"
"Have I?" the glow around me flashed as a wave of crippling aggression assaulted my consciousness, sending me reeling back to my knees. Blood trickled from my nose and ears as my life bar blinked, shrinking rapidly.
"Have I!" I heard as if through a layer of cotton wool. "I was the first to take the impact of the astral breach! The lands around the temple were littered with my scales and the bodies of the slain metal giants and their steel-shelled servants. It was after that battle that the Scarlet Hills had turned into the Dead Lands and their beautiful poppy meadows had become the Valley of Fear. All life had turned into dust and those who possessed enough magic to combat the invisible death had become the walking dead. Look at the proud freemen crawling my spine in the shape of skeletons! Arise, o sentient one. No one dies here without my permission."
A refreshing surge of life coursed through my body, returning me my sight and hearing. I shook my head. "What happened after the breach, then?" I managed. "Did they close the astral portal?"
"The Titans never left enemies behind. Once they'd squeezed them back into their own realm, they followed them, intending to teach them a lesson and find their true rulers. None of them have ever come back, though. The Temple was destroyed, the Titans were gone, and all life was terminated by the invisible force: in the three days that followed, all the flesh came off my bones which still glow until this very day. Here I lie now, feeding on crumbs of micro energies. Now you've raked it all up... so much so that I even wasted some of my precious energy on healing you, you miserable piece of protoplasm. Now the time of my rebirth has been moved another twenty-four hours. If it keeps going like this, I'll only need to hold out for another hundred and eighteen thousand years. Plus another day which you owe me now. Speak up!"
Jesus. How's that for blackmail. First he tried to strangle me, then he poured some cold water over me and fixed me up with a bill.
"Ahem," I cleared my throat. "I can restore the First Temple."
Bang! It was like being stuck inside a giant church bell hit by a howitzer. In an already well-practiced motion, I dropped to my knees, opening my mouth in a silent grunt. As I clutched my ears, blood poured down my hands.
"You bastard dragon! You're gonna kill me before you have a chance to really learn anything from me. Can't you keep your emotions in check?"
The riot of colors died down as the swirling food processor in my head had finally stopped its maddening rotation. Bony idiot, the killer of the immortals—trust him to scorch my brains and pretend he wasn't even there.
"Say it again."
"You bastard dragon-"
"No! Not that. What was it you said?"
I squeezed one eye shut in anticipation of a new bell toll. "I can restore the First Temple," I blurted out, shrinking, waiting for a new Bang! It didn't come, phew. My new dragon friend had somehow restrained his primary instincts.
"Go on."
An inkling of an idea scratched the surface of my mind and I caught it just in time. "Eh, Sir Dragon-"
"I'm Tianlong, you moron! Long for friends."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Laith. Max for friends." I just hoped that our exchanging names meant more to him than the proverbial 'Pudding—Alice; Alice—Pudding'. "So, Mister Long. I heard that the First Temple had been destroyed five hundred years ago by the forces of the Alliance of Light."
The Dragon snickered. "It's easy to claim someone else's glory when the true owners ain't home. Not five hundred, even: almost eight hundred years ago. If you do a bit of digging, you can still find the invaders' steel bodies buried in our sands and moors. I've done my fair share of crushing and grinding, I tell you. Again you've got me sidetracked! Now, the Temple! Speak up!"
I nodded, deciding not to annoy this mighty creature any more than necessary. Instead, I didn't spare any lipstick to dress up the pig of my imagination.
"Thing is, I can restore the First Temple. The moment the creatures of Light learn about it, they'll be quaking at the knees, desperate to destroy it. First it'll be lone scouts, followed by small groups, then by raids until one day they might bring in an entire army. And you get to meet them all! Think of all the energy—kilotons, no, megatons of mana! Shortening the time of your languishing here to mere centuries!"
I stopped to check the effect my words had produced. Long didn't say anything.
"So can I go now?" I ventured.
"Wait. War is never bad. But my strength is limited at the moment. I might not have enough. Besides, once my true nature becomes known, the armies of both Light and the Dark will beat a path to my door. The Temple! Potentially, it's a wealth of energy. I will let you go now and I will close the opening. In return, you must redirect one tenth of the altar's mana flow to me. Deal?"
"Agreed," I shrugged. "If the altar allows me to do it, you'll get one tenth of all mana it generates."
Softly a gong rang, sealing the deal. A whirling sign flashed before my eyes and disintegrated in a cloud of dust: the picture of a curled red dragon.
"What was that?"
"Just another mark for your collection," the dragon chuckled. "This way it'll be easier for me to control your whereabouts and your contractual obligations. It can help you, too, if it comes to a big scrap. Now go. The creatures of the valley will leave you alone."
The skull's occipital bone screeched, jolting to one side, blinding my eyes with sunshine. Rare were those who entered this place; those who exited it must had been rarer still.
"Good luck to you, Tianlong!"
"You too, micro sentient one. A fly diving into a pot of honey will need a bit of luck."
How's that for dampening one's enthusiasm? Never mind. Not the first time. I stepped toward the exit.
Damn! I collapsed, tripping over a piece of old iron junk buried in a century-deep layer of fine sand. As I scrambled back to my feet and brushed the sand off my clothes, I peered around in search of the treacherous obstacle.
I saw it and froze.
"It's dead iron," Tianlong commented. "It must have stuck in my teeth when I munched on the steel invaders and their servants."
It sure looked as if he'd been munching on some tanks and airplanes, I thought, brushing the sand off a rather rusty and chewed-up tommy gun. A man of my generation couldn't mistake it for anything else. This model was unfamiliar, its strange proportions betraying its alien origin. Its pistol grip was strangely long, designed either for a very large or a seven-digit hand. To get a comfortable grip of the stock, the shooter's arms must have been at least half as long again as mine. Besides, the weight of the thing was more like a company machine gun. The cartridges, strangely green with silver-and-purple bullets, snuggled inside a small spring-assisted chamber. Well, well, well.
"May I?" I asked hopefully, already knowing I wouldn't surrender the gun even if he tortured me.
"Help yourself," Long agreed, nonchalant. "Now hurry! I've already come up with a model for rebuilding both my spine structure and energy channels. All I need now is energy!"
Clasping the precious trophy to my chest, I finally walked out into the fresh air. Once the shield was lifted, my mana bar immediately began filling up while my PM box pinged incessantly with missed messages. Jesus. This cute little dragon didn't seem to even start to realize his own value in this world. His skeleton could make a perfect prison for the digitized. More dark secrets to keep! Then again, I wouldn't say no to borrowing one of his smallest bones to fashion a nice little coffin for somebody called Tavor. You squeeze the customer inside, fasten the lid and bury it, then go on drinking until you forget its coordinates.
And what if I tried Astral Mana Dispersal on him? I looked back at the skull, scared it could be reading my thoughts. But the skeleton, polished by both wind and time, remained silent, deep in his dreams and calculations. He probably missed flying. Dragons had to be a bit like birds: without the sky, they would pine away.