Vegenrage: The Magic User (28 page)

Vegenrage turns to Logantrance, who has fallen to a sitting position against the cement wall. His eyes are open and solid white. His mouth is open, and his breathing is very shallow. “Logantrance! Logantrance!” Vegenrage closes his eyes and concentrates, running his hands over Logantrance’s outline.

“What’s happening to him?”

“He is dying. Blethstole has left a demon inside of him, and it is eating him from within.”

“Can you save him?”

“I am going to try.” Vegenrage pulls back a little from Logantrance and begins to chant in a language Farrah does not understand. “Ooowilll Sssdill Prreeless Awwayy Ak In Stee Makaahh Ummpherr De Re Pull Ouughch!” Green mist flows from Vegenrage’s hands and floats around the silhouette of Logantrance. Logantrance starts to twitch all over, and Vegenrage again chants more unknown words. “Iii Cow aaadd Ree traans Flyy See gree keenee Dee moodss Lithen!”

Logantrance has the absolute look of fear consume his face, made eerily scary with the solid white of his eyes. His mouth opens wide, and Vegenrage grabs the air a foot from Logantrance’s mouth and rips back with his fist, imitating pulling an object, and a demon is pulled from Logantrance’s mouth. It looks just like the baby that Blethstole was when Vegenrage ripped him from the inside of Logantrance earlier.

“What is it?”

“It is demon seed planted by Blethstole. It has not had time to mature and grow powerful. I have caught it in time to destroy it.” He picks the baby up with his magic, and it looks like a newborn baby, only covered in blood. It looks innocent and cries like a normal baby would. He concentrates, lowering his head, and a golden light shines down from the heavens right on the baby. It starts to cry and smoke rises from it as it disintegrates.

Farrah leans down to Logantrance. “Is he going to be OK?”

Vegenrage concentrates, motioning his hands over Logantrance’s outline. The color in Logantrance’s skin starts to normalize, and his eyes roll back to their correct position. He starts to breathe, at first gulping for air and then normalizing to a steady breathing pattern. He breathes deeply, raising his hands to his face, running his fingers through his hair, yawning like he is just waking up.

“Vegenrage! Is that you?”

“I am here, Logantrance. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Farrah and Vegenrage help Logantrance inside, where he can lie down for a bit. Once inside, Logantrance waves his hand, and his bed appears. He lies down and pats some pillows that he can rest on in more or less a sitting position.

“Vegenrage and Farrah. I see you two are becoming inseparable.” They smile.

“How is it that Blethstole found you and, more importantly, got to you?”

“Blethstole is very powerful and one of the oldest dragons in all the Maglical System. Actually, dragons are the oldest of all magic-using species, and there are still many of them alive. They didn’t get to be that way by being foolish. Even with their great size, strength, and magical ability, they stay hidden very well. When they venture out, bad things happen. All the races of man, elves, and dwarves fear the dragons, and for good reason. The dragons have rained destruction on many races, destroying many kingdoms since the beginning of time in the Maglical System. The elves, humans, and dwarves, along with all other species, are food for the dragons, but they fight back. They have hunted dragons, ambushed them, stalked them, and killed many. The humanoid races studied dragons and how they live, how they breed, and how they multiply. A dragon can wipe out an entire kingdom in one day, but to kill just one dragon is more damaging to their species than a dragon destroying a whole kingdom. Dragons take nearly fifty years to produce one to three young and many hundreds of years for them to reach maturity. The races of man, elf, and dwarve banded together on all three planets, made alliances, and set out to destroy all dragons and eliminate the constant threat that dragons imposed on all. Dragons, being the most powerful and masterful in the use of magic, learned how to travel dimensionally and moved from planet to planet, looking for safe places to breed and wiping out all the humanoid races they encountered. The dragons killed all the humans on the planet Fargloin, and this is where they raised their young.”

“Yes, I have learned the story of how the great Rippencore, the great green dragon, destroyed all human life on Fargloin, and this is when the elves and dwarves originally united, and they realized they needed better weapons and stronger magic or they too would be destroyed by the dragons. This led to the races trading the greatest of metals for the use of magic, and they defeated Rippencore, and the elves learned of the use of dimensional travel. I remember learning how the races targeted the female dragons and their young, knowing this would cripple the dragons and make them a dying species. In my studies, I remember that Gwithen is the only remaining dragon mare. My books do not explain what happened to her, only that for some reason, she sleeps and awaits her love, Blethstole, to return.”

“Yes, I have some insight on that for you. Gwithen so far as we know is the last female dragon. However, there may be more. The dragons were hunted and killed, nearly making it impossible for them to continue their race, and they went into hiding, only coming out to make destructive raids and then returning to their well-hidden lairs. They are the most powerful species alive, but they cannot afford to lose any more of their kind, so they stay hidden, mostly confined to their lair, where they are safe and their magic is at its most powerful. They have taken on lives of nomads, making rare raids on kingdoms, castles, and fortresses, stealing the wealth that makes them stronger. Believe it or not, there were evil characters who approached the dragons and offered their assistance to the dragons in exchange for power. They told the dragons where great treasures and magical items were, and the dragons swept in and stole the treasure. These evil characters would then move in and rule the surviving inhabitants. Of course, the dragons then moved right back in and destroyed them all. Dragons have a soft spot in their hearts for those that can sway their emotion to grandeur and a sense of magnificence, but they always return to eliminate those that have seen them up close and survived to talk about it. I have seen Gwithen up close, but Gwithen is the rarest of all dragons. Gwithen is the white dragon mare, the most beautiful, the most powerful, and the least feared.”

Farrah is now sitting with her legs crossed on the bottom left side of Logantrance’s bed, and Vegenrage is sitting with his legs crossed at the bottom right side of the bed, and neither one of them says a word. They are fascinated by Logantrance’s story and listen contently.

“White dragons are so rare that Gwithen is the only white dragon to have ever existed that we know of. She has a heart of goodness and kills only to feed herself. She has the magical knowledge greatest in the Maglical System with the strength to match and uses it only in defense of her life. Even the great Blethstole is powerless against Gwithen. All male dragons wish to mate with Gwithen because her offspring always survive to adulthood. She is pure as snow, all knowledgeable, and she was the power behind the bottle.”

Vegenrage inhales deeply with a noticeable
aaauuuggghhh
sound as his eyes widen.

“That is right, Vegenrage, we had to subdue Gwithen to power the functionality of the bottle. Behaggen and myself needed the power of the strongest being in the Maglical System to make this happen, and this was the last magical ingredient needed to set the bottle forth and capture Kronton. We used the magical power of Gwithen, which put her to sleep until the return of Wherlerria back to Kronton, and that has now happened and Gwithen has awakened. I fear the days of the dragons are returning.

CHAPTER 23
The Fight for Gwithen

Blethstole appears high in the sky, flying toward the tallest peak in the Shandeltowen Mountains. He is flying just below the cloud level, and it is very cold. Ice is forming all over his body, and he shakes himself free of it just to have it form again. As he gets near the tallest peak, he can see a blue dragon, a red dragon, a green dragon, even a pink dragon perched on the mountainside. On top of the peak stands a very large silver dragon, and Blethstole knows this dragon by name. Blethstole lands on the cliff and gives the dragons below him a menacing look, and they humbly take to the wing and fly away. Blethstole shakes himself free of ice and walks up the cliff face to the top and stands facing the silver dragon of equal size on the other side of the very wide cliff top. This is the highest point of the Shandeltowen Mountains, and this is the place that Gwithen makes her home. Blethstole stands arching his back, slowly flapping his wings and swaying his tail, looking all the intimidating force that he is.

“Sillithver, you have left your safe little home on Strabalster to face me. Did you not learn your lesson last time we met? I may not be so kind this time and let you leave with your life.”

Sillithver is absolutely magnificent looking—a triumph in the evolution of dragons. He equals Blethstole’s size with clear differences. He is brilliant silver, shining, gleaming, and sparkling in the light. His scales almost mirrors as he shimmers in the light of the day. A great contrast to the dark body of Blethstole; however, Blethstole is brilliant and shimmering, only very dark. Sillithver has wings very different than Blethstole’s. His wings extend out from the sides of his back and are an extension of his front legs. As he stands, his wings are somewhat opened, and as he walks and moves, his wings are a part of the motion.

Blethstole’s wings grow from the mid of his back, and his legs are free to move, not attached to his wings, and this is definitely an advantage in a situation like this, where two dragons are squaring off for the right to mate. If combat forms between these two, Sillithver cannot swing at Blethstole’s head because his horns will surely puncture and tear his wings, which is something he learned the hard way as these two have faced each other before and fought for the right to mate with Gwithen.

“I see your wing has healed. How about your pride, silver dragon?”

Sillithver has a long snout like Blethstole’s, with massive teeth and a very powerful jaw. He has large purple eyes with a large black pupil in the center. He has no horns adorning his head, but he has two points on each wing where a very large tusk grows that Blethstole must be very conscious of. A well-placed thrust from Sillithver with any one of these four great tusks can cause serious and possibly deadly injury to Blethstole.

All dragons have a unique and deadly breath attack, Blethstole’s being the Breath of Decadence. Sillithver has the breath of Molten Metal. This attack is awesome. Sillithver can spew hundreds of pounds of a molten silver metal that encapsulates the target and then hardens very quickly, burning and suffocating the victim or victims and leaving them tombed in an unbreakable metal. There is a unique phenomenon in the Maglical System that makes dragons of any color immune to the breath attack of any other dragon, so breath attacks are not used when dragons battle each other. This is a battle of wits, and if one is not talked out of the duel, physical combat follows.

“Blethstole, I faced your might when I was young, and all I suffered was a minor wound in my wing. I have grown and matured since then, and now I have the size and strength to match yours. And more importantly, I have the agility and speed to render your strength obsolete. Take heed, old friend, I wish to not harm you. Our species needs all of us, but Gwithen is to bear my children to bring in the new generation, and if I must take you down to accomplish this, then the greater good will be served.” Sillithver stands on his hind legs and opens his wings, shining a very bright reflected light in Blethstole’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. He lowers back to all fours with his head low and looking ready to strike. “I am much more the wise now. I am much more the powerful now. I am your superior.”

Blethstole laughs. “You are nothing,” and he vanishes.

Sillithver raises his head in amazement, not at all prepared for Blethstole to make this kind of move, and Blethstole appears above and behind Sillithver, falling onto his back. Blethstole’s hind legs come down straddling Sillithver’s tail, making his tail attack minor, if not useless. His front paws come down right in the center of each of Sillithver’s wings, tearing right through them. Blethstole bites with magnificent force right on top of Sillithver’s head, not breaking his skull, but puncturing it with his long and powerful teeth. Blethstole turns his head to the right with all he has and breaks Sillithver’s neck. Sillithver’s body falls limp, and Blethstole stands there with his slain combatant dangling from his mouth. Blethstole stands there for twenty minutes just knowing other dragons will see and know that Blethstole is still the strongest dragon alive. After he has posed victorious for about a half hour, he kicks the body of Sillithver off the mountain and heads for Gwithen’s lair.

Blethstole jumps off the mountain, doing a nosedive, streamlining his body for maximum speed. About a quarter mile down the cliff face, he opens his wings, extending his head away from the mountain, flying in a fantastic circle, showing off his strength and maneuverability. Upon the upward swing of the second circle, he lets his body fly straight up, basking in the light of day with a big smile on his face. He rises as high as his momentum will carry him then falls back down. He tilts his body to the right and extends his wings sideways like a young boy playing airplane with his arms in an open field. He twirls in tight circles as he falls, showing off his masterful flying ability. He twirls down like a youthful dragon until he sees the opening in the mountain he has been looking for.

He falls below the opening and swoops back up, landing on the mountain with his front paws on the cave leading in and his hind legs on the steep cliff face while his wings flap just strong enough to hold him in place as he sniffs the air from the lair of Gwithen. He breathes deeply and spews a massive Breath of Decadence in a large arch over the top of Gwithen’s entrance, letting any male dragon that approaches know that Gwithen is no longer seeking a mate.

With a strong flap of his wings, he enters the cave and walks down the icy entrance. He breathes deeply as the scent excites him, and the cave falls downward steeper and steeper until he spreads his wings, falling into the vastest of all dragon lairs. The scene shows Blethstole falling from what seems to be a mile away, and he is just a dot flying toward the center ground of this naturally and magically hollowed-out mountain. It is three miles across and four miles high—truly one of nature’s most magnificent creations. There is flowing fresh water in the base of this dome, which descends lower than ground level to the outside. The center is a large rock formation with a huge thick bed of gold where Gwithen lies. There are many holes in the wall of the mountain, which allow bright rays of sunlight to shine down, and there are rare trees and vegetation here and there where the sunlight shines enough. The water shimmers, and the mostly rock walls and floor are dotted with healthy green vegetation, making this a spectacular vision.

Gwithen raises her head and watches as Blethstole flies to her sanctuary. He has puffed himself up, looking wide, strong, and confident. He lands near the wall where the rock leads out into the water, making a natural walkway to her bed of gold. He walks toward her, shaking his head and body, making his scales bounce off each other, making a soothing sound. The contrast between these two dragons is obvious as is the similarity: Blethstole solid black and Gwithen solid white. Blethstole radiates darkness and menace, and Gwithen radiates light and goodness. They both have beautiful wide round emerald-green eyes with great girth and strength in their bodies, and there has never been a clearer example of opposites attracted to each other.

“You did not have to kill Sillithver. He was a valuable asset to our species.”

Blethstole reaches Gwithen and rubs his head gently along hers. He continues with his head running down her long neck, along her back, and down her tail, which straightens out. He uses great care and tenderness, using his horns, which are smooth and tingle Gwithen’s senses. He walks around her back and runs the other side of his head and horns up the other side of her body until their heads meet again. He steps away from her.

“Sillithver was looking for a fight. He wanted to be the dominant dragon and was not going to give you up this time. He had the size and strength to beat me, but his silver nature gave him pause, thinking I would back down. There was no other way, and we both know this.” Blethstole walks down a natural rock formation leading down to a clump of trees and dark-green vegetation. He brushes his paw over the growth, exposing three large eggs. “Are they as we left them?”

“They will hatch any day now.”

Blethstole heads back up toward Gwithen. “I saw those responsible for stealing your magic today. I breathed fear into those responsible for making you sleep. I did not take their lives today because it is you that should excise their souls from their puny bodies. You should take vengeance on those that stole from you. I have watched the races of man and elf and dwarve become strong in the use of magic. I have watched as they fearlessly attack dragons and, in many cases, kill us. It is time to show strength. It is time to fill their hearts with fear and send them into hiding as they have done to the dragons. We need you to help lead the way. With you destroying their small civilizations, the remaining dragons will flock to protect you and destroy them.”

“You know that is not my way. I do not care about death and destruction. I do not care that they stole my magic and put me to sleep to further their cause. The thought of showing my power to kill with ease fades when I think about what is important to me, like watching our young hatch, playing with them, feeding them, and watching them grow. That is what is important to me. You talk as though all men, all elves, and all dwarves want to hunt and kill dragons. I do not believe this. You fly down on kingdoms with hundreds or thousands of people there and kill most of them. You may kill some truly evil people, and you may kill a lot that want to hunt and kill dragons, but you really kill mostly those that just want to live and let others live too. To kill the masses accomplishes nothing good, it only worsens things. To rain fear breeds fear in those that had no intentions of ill will in the first place. To kill many when you truly target only a small few or one brings mass hostility against you, and this will ultimately be your downfall. It is those with only the best of intentions with innocence in their hearts that remember cruel deeds and, in time come, back to haunt and eliminate the doers of cruel deeds. You can never change your ways, it is in your nature to show force, to eliminate the weak, and it will be one that remembers what you have done and with nothing but good intentions that will use those good intentions to strike back at you.”

“You never understand. You don’t realize that the inferior races will always fear us. They will always hunt us and will not stop until we are all gone. I face this realization and take it on with understanding. I know that someday we will survive or the humanoid races will survive, and I want it to be us.”

“I understand that I am possibly the strongest, largest magical female being in our universe, and I don’t want to use this power, this gift to kill innocent beings. Those with the daring to enter my home or endanger my young will face my overwhelming power, but I choose to live outside that possible reality. I want love, I want calm, I want serenity.”

“So how do you, in your serene mind, justify and dismiss what the humanoid races have done to you, what they have done to us?”

“I learn, I grow, and I don’t make the same mistake twice. That is what you are for. You are the dealer of strength. You are the wave of force. You are the front line in the battle that you crave. I am the bearer of your children, and my children will live free, happy, and innocent until the time comes that they are free to venture on their own and make their own decisions. I am the ruler of my home. I have made the life I choose for myself, and right now I choose to end this discussion until a later time of my choosing.” Gwithen stands up and flutters her snowy-white scales, sending pink dots glittering all around her. She lowers her head and stands tall on her hind legs, exposing her rear to Blethstole and waves her tail side to side. The scent, the view, Blethstole cannot refuse.

When Gwithen awoke from her sleep, one of the most powerful and fascinating female awakenings in all the universes took place. When Gwithen awoke, she climbed to the top of her mountain and fluttered her scales. This sent her scent floating in the wind, but more potent than her scent is the sound that her scales made as they brushed against one another. Her scent is so potent that it literally floated around the entire globe of Kronton, alerting all dragon female and male alike that she has risen and is sexually receptive. If that is not astounding enough, the sound of her scales reverberating actually encircled the whole globe and traveled to the surrounding planets in the Maglical System. This combination of sound and scent drew dragons from all three planets in the Maglical System. This has caused a serious and alarming chain reaction throughout all three planets.

First of all, the dragons have taken to the wing, making themselves visible, and this sends fear throughout all the humanoid races. The call to arms has already begun. The dragons have no interest in the lower forms of life at this point. Their first ambition is to, if possible, gain sight of the top dragon mare. This is worship to the dragons, and as much as they love to be bathed in grandeur, there is one time they all relish in the ability to show their admiration in something larger than themselves: the oldest, wisest, and most beautiful of all dragons—Gwithen. She is also mother to nearly 25 percent of all living dragons. No one knows how many female dragons are still alive, if any, but everyone knows who Gwithen is.