After Achzina receives his official invitation to join Clan Lukra from Ammanas, Frip helps him settle in, introducing him to the other Oracles: Bartos, Nesita, Acrux, and Machine. // read on ao3
“I’ve brought you a letter,” Ammanas said. The ornate scroll he handed Achzina was thicker than Achzina’s own forearm, since he was in his two-legged shift. That made it unwieldy, hard for Achzina to pull open, and the tundra added, “I can tell you what it says, if you don’t mind: it’s an official invitation to join Clan Lukra.”
“Oh, thank you.” Achzina put the scroll down and smiled at Ammanas. So he’d been accepted after all. It wasn’t a surprise; in fact, he’d started to wonder what the holdup was. Barholme had certainly seemed certain that he would be -- certain enough to kill him for. “What should I do now? Head for the Inner Sanctum?”
Ammanas nodded. “Actually, Frip volunteered to show you around. She should be -- ”
“Here?” A figure stepped around the corner: a two-legged shift like Achzina’s, clad in hooded white robes. Her feet tapped against the wooden floor as if she wore heavy boots, though they were hidden under the robes. Achzina wondered, briefly, if she’d been standing just around the corner, listening, waiting for the most dramatic moment to appear.
Ammanas frowned. “Well, I thought you were going to meet us at the gate, but this is good, actually … No offense, Achzina, but as much as I enjoy your company, I do have a lot of other guests to see to.”
“None taken,” Achzina said, automatically. He looked at Frip. Under the hood he could see light glinting off the deep purple crystal of her face; the sight stirred something in his memory. “I thought Elain was the only shape-shifter among your clan?”
“Your clan now, Ach,” Frip said, her tone more informal than Achzina would have expected from a near-complete stranger. And she hadn’t answered the question. “Do you prefer Ach or Achzie? We’re still trying to settle on a nickname for you.”
“I leave you in Frip’s most capable claws,” Ammanas said, leaving with a bow. Achzina would’ve found the words more comforting if Ammanas hadn’t sounded so doubtful on the words “most capable.”
“I’m going to introduce you to the other Oracles, give you a short tour of the lair, and then show you to your quarters,” Frip explained as she walked down the corridor, beckoning Achzina to follow. He did. There was something familiar about her. Now, where had he seen white cloth and crystal scales recently … ?
He didn’t have to think about it very hard. The image had occupied his mind every night since, an unanswered question that weighed particularly hard on him as he contemplated the mantle of Oracle. “You were there, weren’t you?”
“I’ve been many places,” Frip said, deftly navigating a ramshackle ladder in a space that had been built for creatures with wings. Achzina followed more slowly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“That night, when Barholme attacked us,” Achzina clarified, though he suspected that Frip knew exactly what he was talking about. “I saw you at the window when the rift opened.”
“Barholme opened a tear in the very fabric of reality. I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw strange things.”
As a seer, Achzina was used to working out abstruse meanings: his visions rarely gave clear answers, either. “Are you a strange thing, then?”
Frip grinned. “The strangest.”
For a long moment neither of them spoke. On Achzina’s part, he was too busy making his way through Pilgrim’s Rest, which had not really been designed for creatures with only two legs. There was a route, for beastclans and shape-shifters, but it wasn’t the quickest or easiest way around.
“I think I owe you thanks,” Achzina said at last. “I think you saved my life.”
“Now that doesn’t sound like me,” Frip said.
“Nobody knew why the rift closed, but I bet I can guess,” Achzina persisted. “You stopped it, didn’t you?”
“I seem to recall you telling Aridatha you had no idea what closed the rift,” Frip said, glancing sidelong at Achzina. It was true, but how had she known? He had seen no sign of Frip in the audience at Barholme’s trial. Of course, he could have missed her, or she could have received an account later, but it seemed too minor a detail to come secondhand.
“I said I didn’t know what happened,” Achzina replied. It was the same logic he’d used to justify keeping quiet to himself. “I still don’t know, not for sure. I just suspect.”
They’d reached the gates. Frip opened a small door set into them without bothering with a key and ushered Achzina through. Wondering why a clan that didn’t shapeshift would have a door fitted to two-legged forms, and why it’d been unlocked, Achzina stepped through -- but once the door shut behind Frip, it vanished altogether into the smooth surface of the wood, as if it had never been.
Achzina looked to Frip for an explanation, but she only smiled, as if daring him to ask about the mysterious door. He resisted the urge. Yes, yes, we’ve all seen magic before.
“Not like this you haven’t,” Frip said. Achzina blinked, but she had already moved on, heading towards the pool in the center of the Sanctum. “Come on, Achzie. The other Oracles will be waiting.”
I guess she can read minds, too. Achzina followed Frip to the pavilion, which was already occupied. He recognized Machine from his interview, and Bartos the archmage from Barholme’s trial. The pink-winged imperial and purple tundra had been at Barholme’s trial too, but Achzina hadn’t caught their names. They were all in dragon form, of course; it still felt strange for Achzina to see such a gathering of different breeds, the oversized imperial curled around the other dragons.
“You know Machine and Bartos already,” Frip said, a statement that appeared to slightly surprise Bartos. “These are Acrux and Nesita. Nesita’s a gifted healer, and Acrux is clairvoyant.”
“I also read minds sometimes,” said Acrux, the imperial, with a friendly smile. His tone made it clear that he’d heard Achzina thinking about Frip.
“I’m not really an Oracle, but I’ve been able to help some individuals who seek solutions to what ails them,” Nesita said.
“It’s astonishing how many of the answers people seek can be found in established texts, if you only know where to look,” said Bartos, pushing his spectacles up his nose.
Machine said nothing, only looked blankly at Achzina.
“I’m glad to meet you all,” Achzina said. “I understand we’ll be working together. I hope you find my visions helpful.”
“I’m sure we will,” Nesita said.
“Did you get your schedule yet? No?” Acrux apparently didn’t feel the need to wait for Achzina’s answer. “Aridatha will get it to you shortly, I imagine. She usually has us work in shifts.”
“I’ll also be joining you sometimes,” Frip added.
“What are your powers?” Achzina asked, hoping she wouldn’t find the direct question rude. She didn’t exactly seem the type to be easily offended, but there were the others to consider, as well. “And, er, Machine’s?”
“Barely in the building and you’re already asking what we all contribute?” Frip smirked, and kept talking as Achzina tried to protest that that wasn’t what he’d meant at all. “Machine can answer any yes or no question. And I mean any. He can’t communicate otherwise, but he’s still quite useful. As for me … I watch birds and I know things.”
“You’re an augur?” Achzina had met a dragon before who claimed she could tell the future from the patterns of birds flying through the sky.
“No, that’s unrelated to the knowing things bit -- we just like birds. But now that you say that, we really ought to add an augur to the team, oughtn’t we? Better write that down,” Frip said, making no move to do so.
Acrux cleared his throat. “Frip baffles many of us, but she can provide many answers that the rest of us cannot. When she deigns to do so.”
“Right now I think I’m going to deign to show Achzina around the lair,” Frip said, beckoning to Achzina. “Unless someone brought sandwiches to the workplace orientation. I could murder a BLT.”
Achzina raised an eyebrow. The other dragons looked startled and perhaps a bit crestfallen, to have been called out here for such a brief introduction -- except for Machine, who just looked blank. Achzina said, “I’d be honored to continue the tour, Frip.”
“Good, because you don’t have a choice. Now, the hoard is this way … ”
As Sornieth changes, pilgrims seek answers from Lukra’s Oracles. Achzina, Machine, and Acrux have few to offer, but Frip steps forward.
“Sornieth is in chaos!” cried the imperial. “The mountains surge, the Crescendo vanished, the Armistice is broken -- the Tidelord himself has fallen silent! There are even rumors of an Emperor! What answers can your Oracles provide? We must have answers! We need answers!”
“We have nowhere else to turn,” added a ridgeback, more softly, sadly.
“Have the gods abandoned us?” demanded the imperial.
“No,” Machine said, and for a moment there was silence. Achzina looked at his fellow Oracles, trying not to appear nervous. They had quite a crowd of pilgrims today, more unified and more agitated than usual -- understandable. The questants seemed to have selected the golden imperial as their spokesdragon, but Achzina saw dragons of all breeds and flights in the crowd, hungry for answers. And he had none to give.
“Then why is this happening?” the imperial asked. “What’s going on?”
Achzina had tried. As news of the calamities across Sornieth had trickled in, on the wings of messenger-birds and in scrying crystals, he’d focused his powers on these events, sought answers. But his visions had returned nothing but vague, splintered images of chaos. He could glean nothing useful from them, and feared that telling the crowd of his dark dreams would only drive them to greater panic.
Acrux looked at Achzina across the pavilion: all the Oracles were gathered today, and Bartos; anyone who might have some insight to offer. From the look on the pink-winged imperial’s face, though, Achzina could tell that Acrux didn’t expect much. He might already be making contingency plans, just in case the crowd got wild, though Achzina didn’t even want to think about that possibility. He wanted to believe that this congress of reasonable, rational dragons would have a reasonable, rational response to the lack of news. But …
The crowd rustled with whispers like a forest in storm. Finally, Frip stepped forward.
“We don’t know exactly what’s happening,” she said, and noise erupted from the assembled dragons as they all tried to talk at once. Frip waited a moment, then shouted, “Quiet!”
The pavilion went silent. For a moment even the sound of the stream rushing by seemed to fade. Achzina thought he felt his own throat close off; even if he’d wanted to say something, he didn’t think he could.
“We know that there has been a powerful resurgence of elemental magic,” said Frip, into the silence. “We know that this is all part of the plan. This is not the end of days. Sornieth will endure and grow stronger for this. Many clans will rise out of each meter of ash. We will survive and flourish.”
For another long moment there was quiet, no one quite daring to speak. Then the golden imperial spokesdragon stepped forward. “Thank you, Oracle.”
“But what of the ash?” said the silver-winged ridgeback who’d spoken up before, even as many of the gathered dragons turned to leave, satisfied. “What about those who are lost, and their families? Their grieving clans?”
“There is always ash,” Frip said, her tone darkening. “Lose. Grieve. And then rebuild. That never changes.”
The ridgeback hesitated. “And you have no insight that could save us? Nothing we can take back to our clans, to tell us where the next disaster may strike?”
A new Oracle arrives in Lukra, hoping that the Home of Oracles can be his as well. Treat and Ammanas help him get his bearings. // read on ao3 / read on deviantart
Achzina walked into the Pilgrim’s Rest behind the group of longnecks he'd met on the road and stopped, taking in the sight of the inn. Its construction might be hasty and slightly ramshackle, but it was an imposing structure even so, enormous and tangled, built around the native trees. Achzina could not fight the feeling that if he took three steps out of this main hall, he would become hopelessly lost.
Most of the longnecks continued on. Unlike Achzina, they had written ahead and arranged their lodgings. But the shaman, Viro, in whom Achzina had confided his worries on the journey, lingered.
“This is where we leave you,” Viro said in accented Common. “But do not fret, young one. Any clan would be lucky to have you.”
Achzina smiled and didn’t correct the shaman about his age. “Thank you, Viro. I hope you find the answers you seek, as well.”
“That is the hope,” said Viro, with a stately nod, and moved on.
Achzina spent another long moment looking around the canvas-roofed space, taking in the variety of dragons eating, lounging about, and conversing over their meals. Surprisingly, very few of them were in shifts, as he was; Achzina had always been taught that to enter a shared building in one’s natural form was most impolite, especially for larger dragons, but here he saw guardians and imperials curled against the walls with their full-sized bodies, others picking past their tails with barely a glance at them. A ridgeback sat almost directly in front of a door, apparently not caring that a group of harpies had to split up to go around them.
Just another thing to get used to, Achzina supposed, though he couldn’t help feeling quite intimidated by the sheer size of the dragons around him. He’d seen large dragons before, of course, but not all in a big mixed-species group like this; not when he had something to compare them to. Clutching his satchel, he made his way across the huge courtyard, looking for any sign of the authorities he hoped to talk to. A moment’s investigation revealed a masked pearlcatcher doling out food from a stand on one side of the courtyard, and Achzina went there.
“Stew for you’ll be 5 treasure,” the pearlcatcher said, sizing up Achzina. “Everything else has prices on it.”
“I was hoping you could point me to someone in charge, actually,” Achzina said, feeling small and awkward.
“If you’re looking for lodgings, Ammanas organizes that. Gold and silver tundra in a floppy hat -- he’s usually over that way. Otherwise, I might be able to help you.” The pearlcatcher put aside the ladle she carried and smiled at Achzina. “Name’s Treat. You?”
“I’m Achzina,” he said, and then blurted, “I’m an Oracle.”
“Are you now?” A certain guarded look fell into place in Treat’s green eyes. “So, you’re not here to ask a question, I’m guessing?”
“No,” Achzina said. “I’m -- I’m looking for a home.”
They did advertise this place as the Home of Oracles, so Achzina hoped he could be forgiven for imagining that that might apply to him. So far his gift had brought him little but trouble -- harassment from those who did not believe his predictions, who thought that he was making the misfortune he foresaw happened; or from those who did believe him, and wanted his knowledge all to themselves.
“Right.” Treat wiped her claws on an apron, then took the apron off entirely. “Let’s go see Ammanas, and he’ll see about getting you into the Inner Sanctum. The clan’ll want to interview you. We’ve had such interviews before, you know. They haven’t gone very well.”
Achzina’s face must have fallen, because Treat smiled reassuringly, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Don’t worry, dear. The others failed because they were charlatans, and thus had to be thrown out on their ears. You have nothing to worry about … if you’re telling the truth.”
At least they were only thrown out. I can handle that. On the way in Achzina had passed a gibbet decorated with the skulls of various dragons and beastclans, and a warning: The Oracles have teeth!
“I am,” Achzina said, confidence somewhat restored. “You’ll take me to see this Ammanas? That’s kind of you.”
A dragon coughed behind him, a green tundra. “What about my food?”
“Grab what you want and put the gold in the basket,” Treat said. “Don’t cheat us or Ammanas’ll sniff you out. This way, Achzina.”
The pearlcatcher led him through the crowd, though Achzina sometimes struggled to keep up, as she moved faster on four legs than he did on two. When she took to the air to get around a particularly large guardian, he gave up and let his shift fall, despite the deep feeling of impropriety, following her on a skydancer’s wings. Treat glanced back, smiled, and flew the rest of the way.
They finally landed near a tundra who must have been Ammanas, floppy hat and all, as he spoke to a fae and an imperial about finding them lodgings together. Treat gestured for Achzina to wait, and in a moment Ammanas concluded that conversation and turned to them. “Treat? Is something the matter?”
“I’d like to introduce you to Achzina,” Treat said. “He wishes to join the Oracles. I thought you could find him a place to stay for tonight, and then one of us could speak to Aridatha.”
Ammanas bowed his head. “Of course. Achzina, please follow me. Treat, I believe Calana’s scheduled to come by in about an hour if you want to give her the message then.”
“When do you think they’ll be able to see me?” Achzina asked. “And, uh, who exactly will be seeing me?”
“You’ll be interviewed by a few clan members,” Ammanas said. “Aridatha and Lioska, of course -- ”
“Aridatha’s our leader, and Lioska oversees the guards,” Treat added. “Sorry, love, but I’ve got to get back to my stall -- Ammanas will see to you, I promise.”
Achzina nodded and thanked Treat, and she fluttered away.
“I hope we can make you comfortable here,” Ammanas said, watching Treat go. “Oh, and you’ll see someone to evaluate your powers. That dragon varies -- could be Acrux, Frip, Machine, or possibly Barholme or Bartos; they may not have such sight themselves, but they’re magical experts.”
“What will they be looking for, exactly?” Achzina asked, a bit nervously.
Ammanas looked him over and smiled. “Just that you are, indeed, who you say you are; and that you would be able to contribute to the needs of dragons here. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. We have been looking to recruit … Well, let me see you to your room, and then you may feel free to wander until they’re ready to speak with you.
“All right,” Achzina said, trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach. “I hope that’s soon.”
The clan holds a council to get to the bottom of Barholme’s attack on Elain and Achzina, and decide what’s to be done about it. Aridatha presides, with Lioska, Nesita, Bartos, Acrux, Talise, and others in attendance. // read on ao3 / read on deviantart
The pearlcatcher guard and a mirror with black scales and silver wings escorted Achzina, his attacker, and the skydancer who’d apparently come to warn him out of Pilgrim’s Rest, into the Inner Sanctum. It struck Achzina as odd that Clan Lukra would bring a would-be murderer into their fortified home, but he had more important mysteries on his mind. Once they entered the Sanctum, there came a brief period of frenzied activity around the three dragons involved in the altercation, while they remained under guard; then they were brought before Aridatha.
The clan leader and several other dragons had gathered in the same open-air chamber where she’d interviewed Achzina, built at the base and into the lower branches of one of the starwood trees. Achzina recognized Lioska from his interview. Also present were two tundras with sky-blue wings, one black-furred and one purple; a pink-winged imperial; a brown and green skydancer; a dark mirror with red markings mazing over her wings; and a purple coatl wearing bows. As Achzina, his attacker, and their companion entered, most of the dragons chatted amongst themselves; Achzina could hear the skydancer asking the imperial for news and see the mirror and coatl with their heads bowed together. A hush fell as the guards took up positions on either side of Achzina and the other … prisoners. Were they prisoners? Achzina wasn’t sure.
“Talise,” Aridatha said, into the silence. “You were the first on the scene, yes? What did you find?”
“I was --” began the tawny skydancer, the shapeshifter who’d burst into Achzina’s room.
“You --” said the silver fae, their attacker.
“Quiet,” Aridatha said, calmly but firmly. “Everyone will get a chance to tell their side of the story, but in turn. First, I want to hear from Talise.”
The pearlcatcher guard stepped forward. “It was late at night, the gates were shut, and I was patrolling Pilgrim’s Rest when I heard a commotion. Shouting, mostly, from upstairs, but as I headed towards it I started feeling something magical, too. Can’t tell you what it was; I’m no archmage.”
“Excuse me?” said the dark tundra, stepping forward. “If I may, Aridatha; since I am an archmage, and I took the liberty of briefly examining the scene of the incident?”
“Go on, Bartos.”
“From the traces left behind, it appears that someone used a spell designed to drain all the magic out of the room -- including out of any living creatures in the room, a process that would certainly be fatal.” A moment’s silence fell after that word, as all the dragons in the room took in the seriousness of the event. And it only got worse as the tundra continued: “The spell was not contained; Ammanas informed me that dragons in neighboring rooms complained of its effects, and particularly sensitive dragons could feel it from across the inn. If left unchecked, it could have harmed dragons across the inn -- perhaps more than ‘harmed,’ and perhaps further than the inn.”
Achzina felt cold, and he snuck a peek at the silver fae. He found it hard to believe that someone would go to such excessive lengths to kill him -- and he’d never even met this fae! What could he have done to engender such hate?
Barholme has a problem with shape-shifters, Ammanas had told him, but Achzina had never imagined such a “problem” would manifest itself like this.
“I don’t know anything about that,” the pearlcatcher, Talise, said as the tundra stepped back into the audience. “What I do know is that by the time I got up to the room, Barholme was just there looking -- well, I don’t know what; faes, you know? But he was there in the doorway, trying to cast, and the other two were writhing on the floor, clearly unwell, so I restrained Barholme and took all three of them into custody. That’s all I have to say.”
Talise retreated. Aridatha glanced around the room for a second, and then her gaze focused on the tawny skydancer. “Elain. What were you doing there?”
“When I went to bed last night, I found a note in my nest,” Elain said. “It said that Barholme would try to attack the new Oracle tonight, because he was a shape-shifter. I don’t know who sent it, but, well, they were right, weren’t they? I went out to the inn to warn him. And then Barholme tried to kill us both! I mean, I always knew he was going to, but I figured he’d go for me first.”
The skydancer’s matter-of-fact tone struck Achzina: he wondered how long she’d lived with the knowledge that one of her own clan-mates wished her dead, like a sword hanging over her throat. And still she’d come to warn him -- risking her life in the process. Almost unconsciously, Achzina moved closed to Elain, literally standing by the other skydancer.
“What happened when you got to the inn?” Aridatha prompted.
“I didn’t have time to tell Achzina why I was there, but I did wake him up, so at least Barholme couldn’t murder him in his sleep.”
“I would have woken him,” interrupted Barholme. “Sinners must know that they are punished.”
Elain gave Aridatha a significant look, as if to say, See? Achzina muttered, “Sinners?” with a growing weight in his chest.
“Elain.” Aridatha placed heavy emphasis on the name, glaring at Barholme.
“Barholme started in on his whole ‘sinners’ rhetoric, just like he just did.” Elain’s snout crinkled in contempt. “Which was whatever, but then he started firing bolts at us. Cut straight through the wall! I tried to stop him, but he shielded himself, held me off -- and then he created that rift thing. It had us both on the ground; hurt like Shade itself. And then it just … stopped. Not sure why. I figured Talise did something.”
Talise shook his head. “Unless ‘doing something’ means ‘just showing up,’ nope.”
The two tundras in the audience muttered to each other. Achzina remembered a flash of white cloth and a claw held to crystal lips, but he said nothing. For one, it wasn’t his turn to speak; and he also didn’t feel secure enough in his place here to speak up, or to disregard the request for silence in that held-up claw.
But now Aridatha turned to him. “Achzina. What happened, from your perspective?”
Achzina took a deep breath. Tell the truth, or keep quiet? What had Clan Lukra done to deserve the truth from him, when they couldn’t even control the homicidal maniac in their midst? He felt more inclined to trust the dragon at the window, who had probably saved his life.
“I don’t have much to add to Elain’s account,” he said. “I attempted to shield us, but it wasn’t going to hold -- but I suppose Barholme grew impatient, and that’s when he released the rift. It wasn’t really necessary.”
“You don’t know what halted the rift?” Aridatha asked.
Achzina hesitated. He hadn’t expected a direct question. But then, he wasn’t lying -- he didn’t know that the mysterious dragon had anything to do with the rift closing. He only suspected as much. “No. My talents lie in divination; I’m no great expert in other forms of magic.”
Aridatha seemed satisfied, anyway, though Lioska’s green eyes bored into Achzina as if she suspected something. Or perhaps only his guilt made him see accusations everywhere. Achzina reminded himself that he had done nothing wrong, that he was the victim of Barholme’s attack.
Reluctantly, Aridatha turned to the last dragon in custody. “Barholme. Defend yourself, if you can.”
The fae raised his head. “What else was I to do? For too long, you’ve stalled me, quibbled and refused to deal with the blasphemer among us. Then I hear that you consider inviting a second beast-lover to join us, and as an Oracle, favored of the gods. Obviously I could not allow this. I spoke to you on the subject, remember? I told you not to accept this creature, and you dismissed me.”
Aridatha frowned as eyes turned to her. “I recall. I told you I’d take your concerns into account.”
“You dismissed me.” Barholme’s fins flared. As little as Achzina wanted to give the fae any credit, he had a point: Aridatha barely sounded sincere making that promise now, after the fact. Then Achzina remembered how backwards Barholme’s “concerns” were, and any sympathy he’d had for the priest vanished. “I could not let this stand. And even if you refused him, by some chance -- such a sinner could not be permitted to claim the mantle of Oracle, here or anywhere else. So I went to take care of him, to show him the error of his ways with holy fire.”
“The Arcanist is not a god of holy fire,” interrupted the purple tundra. “He would wish us to study strange forms of magic, not destroy them on sight.”
Barholme’s neck swelled, fins extended to their full length and surface area as he hissed in rage. But others nodded in agreement: Lioska, the dark tundra, the imperial.
“Thank you for not attempting to deny your guilt, Barholme,” Aridatha said, a note of anger in her voice. “It makes this simpler.”
“Guilt?” hissed Barholme. “Guilt? What have I done? He is not of our clan, not yet; he is nothing to us. I have broken no law.”
He actually seemed to get some support on that one: the guard Talise tilted his head, considering the argument, and the mirror in the audience nodded.
“Pale excuses,” Aridatha snapped. “We will not allow murder on our grounds, whomever the victim may be.”
“Not to mention your total disregard for collateral damage,” Lioska said. “We must ensure the safety of the pilgrims who come to us for answers. What are we to tell them, if one of our number can set off dangerous magic among them with no consequences?”
“And your attack also targeted Elain, who is a clan member,” the imperial added. Elain herself looked rather surprised at that.
“You’ve admitted your guilt,” Aridatha repeated. “Now all that remains is to decide what’s to be done with you.”
Barholme’s head tilted as he looked up at Aridatha. “Kill me, then. I can think of no fate more glorious than to be a martyr for my lord.”
“We’re not going to kill you,” Aridatha said firmly.
Beside Achzina, Elain snorted, as if she disliked this decision, but Achzina himself felt rather relieved. For all Barholme’s willingness to do so to him -- not to mention the fae’s unpleasant demeanor -- Achzina didn’t want to feel responsible for another dragon’s death.
Aridatha glanced around the chamber. “I intend to exile Barholme from our clan and lands, so that he no longer possesses the privileges of a member of Clan Lukra, and nor may he approach our lair. If our patrols meet him, they are to turn him back with as much force as he makes necessary.”
“What, so he can go murder some other shape-shifters somewhere else?” Elain demanded. “So he can vent his spleen on the beastclans?”
Achzina felt much the same, and said so. “Exile does nothing to curb Barholme’s murderous tendencies, or to prevent him from enacting them somewhere else. He must be stopped, not simply made someone else’s problem.”
“If I may make a suggestion,” said the imperial, stepping forward. “I know you asked Nesita and Bartos to seal these three’s magic, to prevent any conflict from breaking out here in council.”
From beside Achzina, Elain let out a soft “oh,” and Achzina himself realized at that moment that his shape-shifting lay beyond him. That they had done so to all three dragons, not just the obviously guilty Barholme, and that they hadn’t bothered to mention it, irked him.
“I believe the first step in punishing Barholme would be to seal his magic in a more long-term manner,” the imperial continued. “That is possible, is it not, Bartos?”
“I’ve never tried it,” said the dark tundra. “But the theory certainly supports it, and I’ve heard of such things from other clans. I don’t doubt that I could work out how to do it. Permanently, if you wish.”
“You cannot take my lord’s blessing from me,” said Barholme, but he spoke quietly, as if not quite sure himself that the words were true.
“You sometimes speak as if you are the only Arcane dragon in this clan,” Bartos said, an almost contemplative note in his voice, though his pink eyes were sharp. “I think we’ll be able to demonstrate quite effectively that that’s not true.”
Aridatha turned to Elain and Achzina. “Without his magic, Barholme will post little threat to anyone. As the injured parties: does his sealing and exile satisfy you?”
Achzina looked at Elain. Elain appeared to consider the matter for a moment. Then turned to Barholme, curled her claws together, and punched him in the gut.
“That’s for all the mind control,” Elain said, while Barholme coughed on the ground.
“Mind control?” Achzina mouthed, but everyone ignored him.
Elain looked at Aridatha. “All right. You can exile him now. I’m going to bed.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
After suffering visions of disaster, Achzina consults with Acrux on how to move forward.
TW: none.
Achzina woke after a night of troubled sleep, tumbled out of his hammock, and climbed -- with greater care -- down the trunk of the tree that cradled his room in its branches. He found Acrux at the bottom, his enormously long body curled around the trunk. His head, far larger than Achzina’s entire body -- especially in his two-legged shift -- turned.
“You could have just flown,” Acrux pointed out.
“Didn’t occur to me.” Achzina had been too sleepy to realize that making his way down might be simpler if he had wings. He yawned, then looked at Acrux. “This isn’t your room, is it?”
The imperial shook his head. “I had a premonition.”
“Oh, me too.”
Acrux smiled. “I know. That was my premonition -- I heard you calling out in your sleep. It was distressing, wasn’t it? Do you want to talk about it?”
Achzina’s gaze dropped; he studied the earth at their feet. “I saw … doom. Decay. Upheaval. Trees struck by lightning, crystal melting -- the very ground cracking beneath us.”
“‘Us’?” Acrux asked, and well he might: the Oracles received many prophecies that concerned other clans, that they could package neatly and give out to pilgrims like wrapped gifts. But Achzina had never before foreseen disaster so close to home.
“Yes. It was here.” Achzina lifted his head, looking around at the quiet forest, the crater that had become his home. “Acrux, I saw my own death.”
The would-be new Oracle, Achzina, finds himself drawn into an old conflict when Elain and Barholme burst into his room at the inn one night. // read on ao3 / read on deviantart
Achzina woke when a harpy threw herself through the window of his small, cozy room at the Pilgrim’s Rest and landed half on top of him. He’d slept in his shift, in a hammock strung from the bare roof beams, and now both he and the harpy tumbled out in a shouting tangle of confused limbs. To make things worse, the harpy seemed to be changing, her limbs elongating and twisting, and then she was a skydancer instead and Achzina hung over her back from one arm, which was hooked into the joint of her wing.
“What are you … ?” Achzina sputtered, trying to extricate himself, despite the fact that he would certainly fall clumsily to the floor. At least there he’d have some solid footing. “Who … ?”
“Sorry!” said the skydancer, in a high-pitched voice. “Just a -- sorry -- I can’t quite …”
Her body twisted again, claws changing to hooves, wings receding downward; Achzina rescued his arm, rolled off her, hit the floor, and propped himself up on his stomach. “Just stop changing for a moment!”
“I’m almost done!” A delicate, deer-like centaur scrambled to her feet, hooves scrabbling against the floorboards. “Oh, Shade, is he here yet? I thought I’d gotten ahead of him -- no, if he were here there’d be shouting already.”
Achzina sat up. “What are you doing in my room?”
“You are Achzina, right?” the centaur asked. “The new Oracle? Otherwise this is embarrassing -- well, it’s still embarrassing, but otherwise it’s embarrassing and pointless and I won’t have time to warn him -- ”
“Warn me about what?” Achzina said. “You have the right dragon.”
“About -- ” the centaur began, and then the door blew off its hinges, hitting Achzina and knocking him to the floor.
“You,” said a flat voice, accompanied by a menacing otherworldly hum. Achzina couldn’t see the speaker; the door had fallen across him, blocking his view and hindering his attempts to get up. “I ought to have known that you would be here, meddling. But it’s for the best; my Lord smiles upon me today. Your blasphemy ends here as well.”
“I’m not afraid of you!” said the centaur.
“You will be, by the end.”
Achzina managed to shove the door off himself and stood up, finding a silver fae in the doorway, unearthly pink magic shimmering at his clawtips.
“Who are you?” Achzina demanded. “What do you want?”
“You will not offend the gods by aping the name of Oracle, beast,” said the fae.
“I don’t know what you’re talking a -- ” Achzina began, but then a bolt of eldritch energy lanced towards him from the fae’s claws. Achzina threw himself to the floor, and the bolt split the wall behind him, creating a neat, clean hole.
“You could have killed him!” said the centaur, in outrage.
“I certainly hope so,” said the fae, in the passionless tone typical of his species, made suddenly awful by its content. Pink energy gathered amongst his claws once more, setting Achzina’s feathers on end; there was something inherently wrong about it, quite besides the fact that it was apparently intended as the weapon of his own demise.
The centaur let out a cry of pure rage -- screaming bloody murder, Achzina thought with an inappropriate squib of humor -- and launched herself at the fae, changing forms as she did so that she came at him with a skydancer’s claws and teeth. Though she moved with far more anger than combat experience, she could have easily brought down the smaller dragon, but a shimmering shield appeared around him. Though it looked as delicate as a soap bubble, it stopped the skydancer in her tracks.
Right. I can do that too, can’t I? Though battle had never been Achzina’s forte, he did know some useful protection spells, chief among them a shield similar to that the fae used. He folded his hands, trying to center himself amongst the chaos around him, and a translucent white orb of magic started to blossom outwards from his core, enveloping him and then the skydancer. A bolt of pink energy bounced off it with a horrible cracking sound, jarring Achzina badly; he wasn’t sure the shield would hold under a magical pounding. But surely someone had heard the noise -- his new ally’s shouting, if nothing else -- and would come to investigate?
The fae’s eyes narrowed, his frills folding back, and he made a complex gesture with his tiny claws. For a moment nothing happened, and Achzina breathed a sigh of relief, thinking his attacker’s spell had failed. Perhaps now he could hope for some breathing room or even, Eleven forbid, some answers --
With a sound like tearing cloth, a rift opened in the center of the room, between Achzina and the skydancer, a jagged tear in the air itself, visible primarily by how the colors and light around it twisted and bled away into it. Achzina felt himself being drawn towards it, too -- not his physical body but his magic, his life. His shield vanished into it immediately, devoured, and then Achzina screamed as it pulled him out of his shift, leaving him a skydancer on the floor, writhing in agony.
“At least you’ll die as dragons,” said the fae, unaffected, but Achzina only heard him as if from a great, great distance; his consciousness was starting to fail now too, and he at least held onto the hope that he would not still be awake when he finally fell into that ravenous rift …
And then it stopped. Achzina’s lolling head caught a glimpse of a white-clad form at the window; a cowled head rose and held a silver claw to wrinkled lips, and then the space was empty, stars twinkling in the distance.
“What -- ” The fae stopped abruptly as a pearlcatcher coming down the hallway tackled him to the ground.
“Shade, isn’t this a scene,” said the pearlcatcher, glancing across the room. Achzina raised his head and realized he vaguely recognized the newcomer: he’d seen this dragon standing guard a couple times. “I think you’d all better come with me.”
“My spells …” said the fae.
“Is that what caused all this trouble?” The pearlcatcher grinned. It was not a pleasant expression. “Don’t confess too quick, Father. We’ll have the answers out of you sooner or later.”
“He tried to kill us,” said the stranger who’d initially invaded Achzina’s room.
“Never would’ve thought you had the guts.” The pearlcatcher looked more impressed than upset. Then he called over his shoulder: “Hey, old man! We got some excitement for once: attempted murder! Help me bring these three in, would you?”
