Lands of hope

Varlad, who had given himself up to Darkness and became her Incarnation, had recruited builders and flown to a newly reclaimed stretch of land on the coast between Aat and another dragon port, Yazar. What he was going to do — he didn’t answer, and bribed the workers with a large salary, so that they didn’t wonder. “You are giving Darkness too much freedom for nothing,” Solkar threatened Amenemhat. “She might take away your freedom.” “I’m not afraid of her yet. But it gives out troublemakers and fools,” Amenemhat replied harshly. “Besides, it’s better to let her show her plans than to do them in secret.” “But even you don’t know what Varlad is going to do!” Amenemhat nodded curtly. “I don’t know, that’s why I’m looking at his efforts to get some idea.” With these words, he went to the back of his room, coming to a table covered with a thick cloth. Solkar had noticed the energy radiating from it before, but only now did he see what was hidden there: an exact replica of the area occupied by new Incarnation and his builders, with the dragons and their actions displayed on the map. The proper sections of the scale were smaller than the intermediate ones, so Amenemhat felt dizzy when he saw two towers being erected, one completely white, the other completely black. “You’d hurry there before their construction is complete,” Solkar said, wincing at the same feeling. “Or send a trusted spy. Who knows what’s going on there?” “Surt isn’t stupid, but he doesn’t choose his words, and he’ll let us down. Without his phrase about the Highest, the fanatics would never have guessed about this “Darkness”. The current followers of Darkness are the lower Dark ones, a rootless army that tormented the sinners and the righteous on the old continent, collecting energy from them. They’re used to having a master, so they followed me. But Darkness is more like their master, not only does she not ask for other people’s opinions, but she also instills her own. Why did I give my will to those who don’t use it and give my gift away?” “It’s too late to think about the past, we need to figure out how to fix it,” Solkar said, placing his forepaws on the table. “Let’s attack and devel it with the ground those towers, kill Varlad and Namira, and thereby prove that we’re stronger. There is no other way.” “Too early. First, by your own advice, we have to understand what they’re trying to achieve. I need a dragon that doesn’t revere Darkness, but doesn’t express its disapproval aloud. I know that such winged creatures are rare in our temperament, but they’re the only ones with sufficient will over their tongues to serve as spies.” “I have someone on the ground,” Solkar said, spreading his wings slowly. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

* * *

To Amenemhat’s great surprise, the chief Dark wizard, Nergal, and showy sailor Tagirion turned out to be so “willed over their tongues”. Although it would seem that Nergal should be the first to be upset by the presence of deceitful competitors, and Tagirion often sent stinging insults on any point and without. But naval commander Tagirion believed that “divine politics do not apply to him”: “When I pirated on lake Nereveda, I shook the Golden leaves out of both the holy worshippers and the demon-worshippers alike, and they were worth each other in their greed. What difference does it make to me if I don’t pay tribute to you, to Darkness, or to the priests?” “You’ll know when your crew accepts Darkness and sends you to the bottom instead of anchoring,” Amenemhat replied. “Darkness needs order and submission, and I stand for the free will of every dragon.” “Teams are a relic of the hierarchical system, do we not have lords and servants in the new society?” Thagirion with the call smiled Amenemhat. He shook his head at the answer, then turned to Nergal: “Are you sure that once you’re in the heart of Darkness camp, you can restrain yourself from doing any harm before you tell us what they’re doing?” “Revealing the secrets of this sect will be its greatest misfortune, so I’ll gather as many of them as possible before I leave them… or lead it yourself.” Solkar gave a short laugh. “They’re the best we have.” He took a sip of the spiced wine he’d been holding in his paw while the conversation was going on, and laughed again. Amenemhat replied: “Even those who have flown away to Darkness are naive and greedy simpletons who still respect their own kind, but don’t understand what’s best for them. Thagirion, you have to go back to an outdated command, and on the rights of seaman under the Incarnations captains. Behave us if I can’t give you more golden leaves than she can. I’m more relaxed about Nergal, so his task is more important — to stay with me, but to speak in favor of Darkness and to attract those agents of her who may be left in my cities. “Very sensible,” Thagirion clicked his teeth. “And a really fun plan. Did you come up with it yourself or did someone suggest it to you?” Amenemhat raised his ears, feigning surprise. “Did you really never go for a walk on the beach before you laid siege to the city?” “Of course not, who would let me into a respectable city?” Thagirion spread his wings. “And the wretched cities were so poor that even I felt sorry for them, so I repaired the ship and recruited the crew.” “Now you’ll get the opportunity to evaluate your life not from the side of the command, but from the view of a subordinate. Interesting experience, isn’t it?” Amenemhat folded his paws over his chest. “I remember that when I was young, when my mouth wasn’t wide enough for the whole ship.”

* * *

Tagirion hadn’t yet reached the headlands when he saw from the sky an elaborate building already completed with many high-reliefs and sculptures in the form of ugly demons, dragon skeletons and rotting alive, covered with mushrooms krakalevns. “What a welcoming picture,” he said to himself. The fantasy of Darkness was quite developed, and such an image would instantly attract supporters of the right kind to her. Outside this crypt was only one dragon — Arma, whose aura had changed considerably in recent times. Now, like Namira, it was black, a color that had never been seen before in dragons, even Dark ones. Arma was standing by a gravestone, one of several that stood in rows beneath the hillside. “Are you already having accidents on a construction site?” Tagirion planned for her, but didn’t land but flew a narrow circle. “Don’t you have enough souls to revive?” He read the inscriptions on the stones: Varlad, Arma, Tagirion… “Well, it’s nice to know that no one is going to revive me, and send my mortal remains to feed the worms,” he estimated, experiencing a sharp desire to fly away and read the inscriptions below — from a height he could not do it. Besides, if Arma was standing in front of the grave, then he must have been a little mistaken about the worms. “Even when a dragon consumes souls, it doesn’t live forever.” Said Arma. “If he is not killed in battle, he won’t survive the death of the Universe.” “And that’s why you decided to make a memorial here?” Thagirion gently landed, and then began to examine the other headstones. The stones were inscribed with meaningless names, or at least he didn’t know them personally. “If these dragons are going to die anyway, it’s better to kill them so that they stay alive in me, Darkness. So I killed Namira, Arma, Varlad… as for you, only you can choose how to die, but that will happen soon.” “Optimism is a property of all Incarnations, isn’t it?” Tagirion didn’t experience any special feelings, looking at his future grave. “It’s strange that Darkness would kill all its servants.” “When you die in war, you won’t have time to retain your consciousness, and all the plundered goods will remain unknown to anyone until they’re melted in the fire of the dying sun. I’m farsighted, so I no longer hold on to anything but myself in the true sense of this meaning. Tagirion had assumed that he was going to join a mad cult, but he couldn’t imagine a dragoness as strong-willed and wise as Arma Naur, a disciple of Razor himself, who had overthrown the demiurge Semargl. “Well… Is there a way to serve Darkness without sacrificing your own skin?” “What good are you to me if you’re not willing to sacrifice everything for me?” “And what good will I do for her if I serve her only as another receptacle?” grinned Thagirion.”This is no longer patronage, but some kind of parasitism, getting hooked into someone else’s consciousness.” “Your consciousness is alien even to yourself. You don’t do your will — every hour you serve either your body or other dragons, or instinctive and emotional impulses, your masters change more often than you take a breath. And only I own my bodies. And you’ll own it when you get rid of what you think you are — the character that someone else has instilled in you, the infirmities of the body, the logical terms that don’t always work.” “Nice to hear that I still have hope,” growled Tagirion. He thought to himself that Amenemhat had not deceived Darkness.