The once-magnificent tree they sheltered in was long hollow and dead, nothing more than an abode for beasts and sorcerers. Xunathos was the first to awake the morning after the flight. He took a moment to sense and listen to the world outside their shell. No cultists, clanging of metal, stink of magic, no horses, no panting dogs. Neither imperials nor demons had not caught up. He sighed with relief. With a wave of his hand, the wood slid aside and light shone on Itzil, who shiftlessy twitched at the rays of the suns and scratched an itchy spot. She, bare as a beast, had buried herself on a bed of moss and rags. She sank to it easier than she rose from it. Her body seemed almost sexless to him, strangely lean for the terrible strength she possessed. Would it not be for her peculiar way of speech, he'd not have deciphered her sex.
"No morning person, are we?" He smiled. She growled with annoyance and slouched down on a sunnier outcropping. He got to erasing the traces of their night camp, she took in the sun, almost dozing.
"For what it's worth, I am sorry for this." He said, just to break the silence she kept.
"For the fight that came? Because you fished their anger out, like an adorable, wriggly worm? Their fear and rage is their fault, not yours. Perhaps... What made them realize you were a necromancer anyway?" She asked.
He grimaced. "I was there on another errand. I could not stop myself when I saw the conditions of their village. I tried to tell them that the empire's paranoid purge of demons has rid us also of the spirits and the care they gave to the land. on account of its blind zeal. That necromancy could be a remedy to the hard work they faced."
"That was your mistake, sorcerer. Humans of the empire tame what they understand and hate what they don't. Violence is the only way for Itzil to stay Itzil."
Xunathos made a pause, looking at the drake, expecting something she did not know. He deliberated for a moment.
"Why were you there, anyway?”
The creatue’s mien was unchanged. “Passing through. Itzil has always thought the spirits of the land were no friends of your craft.”
He took a moment to gather, struck by the sudden digression. “They were. But that's their problem. And they all are dead now, aren't they? The watchful badger, the kingly lion, the wily lynx, the wandering wolf, great boar, the iron gagana, the honey-seeker bear, the dinosaurs - they are dead now. All gone. Species abolished." He gave her a smile a little mad with despair. "Who's left to point out an academic and pointless truth? This is the interest for windbags content to argue trivialities. Let them spread their doctrines of human supremacy and helplessness! Empty books, songs and slogans are nothing next to marrow artillery, rot grenades, ghost mines. I just need to ask myself: Who among them, humanist or spirit, still stands in my way? No one! And so, I denounced the blunders of the current regime and offered them a feasible alternative. There is no return to the past the empire ruined. Not that running around naked as a mindless spirit slave is something anyone should aspire to return to. Alas, too many seem content to be the empire's slaves instead. So… They chased me from the market square yesterday evening – and you know how the night went. They would not see reason.” He sighed.Itzil's head tilted. "And so you want to enforce it. Give the sad slaves happiness and freedom. Preserve the world, no matter the costs. Even if no one else wants it. Because if you...""... if you alone wield the sword of reason, the Lord of Doubt and Fire has chosen you to know the things unkown?" She nodded.He nodded.They both smiled, happy that the other knew the truth.
As the reptile left the sun, he pushed himself out, black cloak dancing in the morning's wind, and she followed. Now, their progress became swift and sure. The drake found an old forest road soon enough with the help of a map Xunathos had drawn map of the region. The summer was pleasantly warm, too. Unwilling to spoil the weather with serious topics, Xunathos was content to monologue about the forest’s plants, inhabitants and geography to the silent stranger, whose mind and gaze wandered elsewhere, even when she listened and heard all his words. Other sellswords had told stories about the haunted eastern woods where savage demons and even wilder elves dwelt. They danced in caves of bones and lived in huts of leather torn from the skins of hapless travelers. Beasts' furs and bones they sewed back on in their place, laughed as the hapless thing run free and savage, then. She refused to become their target, so she kept watch, even when the wizard ceased to and assured her of the land's safety with his golden words. Except for fey lights in the distant tree tops and enchanted whispers when dream and waking met, the nights stayed quiet and dark in this forest near its end. But there, in the shadows, when the cold struck, the real ambush came. In dreams of coldless night, handless night of biteless thorn that made wakefulness a lessened and dreadful affair. She did not show it, did not slow her step or mourn the unwelcome world, for what use was it? She knew her persuers, the inquisition, the empire, its sellswords, almost everything on this rotten earth, would not forgive weakness.
As they traveled deeper into the east and out of the the imperial heartland, the hills became steeper and more frequent as the last of the beeches and hornbeams disappeared and only oaks remained among the cornifers. In the distance, the hills rose to become the titanic, all towering mountains of the dwarven realm, visible even from here, under the crown of these dying woodlands.
The human smiled as they reached the entrance into a valley, one like any other for the dragon. “Almost there! You’ll like it. Much better than any old imperial village. Then we can also talk about your reward.” Itzil’s tail lashed through the air. “Itzil meant to come to that. But she does not see anything that suggests wealth just now. Does the human perhaps live in a fairy log inside a sacred grove?”
Xunathos’ smile turned to a grin. “Better- and more magical. Come, I’ll show you.” With that, he hurried his pace and took the lead again. The drake trotted behind him, in no particular hurry. The descent widened and leveled out, the trees thinned and let the sun in. Finally, Itzil could hear the quiet gurgle of a stream and her eyes widened as she took in a world not unlike her home. Stout houses built from gray, speckled stone girded by walls wide and strong. But there were no feather-adorned temple guards, no endless floods and no demonic rot that lurked just behind the walls, no matter if you were with demesians or drakes. No slave pens either.
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Instead, the farmers here walked upright, hardened but unbent. Figures wrapped in peasant robes tilled the fields, while black-cloaked children seated at the village’s center around a single orator. Unlike the human cities she had come to know, the streets were clean and wide. Beyond the dwellings, aloft on a lonesome hill, a tower reached towards the heavens. Xunathos eagerly waved at one of the farmers. “Hey there, Marcus! How are the old bones?” The robed one waved back but was as silent as the reptile. Itzil did as the wizard, just to see what would happen. The farmer, again, waved wordlessly. She shrugged and moved along. He was not bothering her, so she would return the favor.
As they came closer to the square, Mijira saw the class. Xunathos beamed from one ear to the other. As the duo drew close, the school turned to them and bowed. “Welcome back, lord.” The teacher, an older man, said. Old age, another thing she saw rarely. The rest of the class was about to do like him, but Xunathos raised his hand and gave them one of his generous smiles. “Spare us the honorifics. I’d rather know if everyone’s learning their share?” They nodded in unison. “Good, very good. Remember: When you learn well, your parents will not have to work when they can not work anymore. And when it is your time to retire, you will not be left alone either. Now, may I introduce you to my friend Itzil?”
He stepped back to give the class a view of her. She stared into the distance, above their heads. The nobleman cleared his throat. “Eh, Itzil? Don’t you want to tell us a little about yourself and where you come from?”
She snorted. “Itzil is Itzil. Her home, Trukh, sunk in face of the flood. She has been exiled from her land because she is a vile beast, without honor. Her people, the drakes, are subjects to the Soldier-Merchants of Demesia, who drain the land of its treasures and bring them to their impenetrable island fortress. Often, they use us as slave-mercenaries, shocktroops and occupying forces, for we are feared for our ruthless aggression. She saved your lord, for she burned half a village alive and tore the throat out of a helpless man, then ate him. She did this because she figured your lord would reward her.”
It had not the desired effect. Normally, the little human spawn began to scream or cry or call her a monster. These things just stared at her with open eyes and mouths. “Did you use magic?” One of the older pupils asked. “Lord Xunathos calls upon magical flames, but he says we should be careful with those.” Itzil found herself giving answer without really intending to. “Yes… and no. We drakes are made from the blood of dragons and from sin, it is said. Thus, we can call upon the breaths of the elements, when we feed upon… the right materials. Fire drakes use coal… and the flesh of sentient creatures." She bared her teeth and drew back the lips. A sign of aggression, but she had learned humans used it for other purposes, too.
What she was not prepared for was the response of another older student. When she rose and stared her straight into the eyes, she spoke without stutter or pause, but also tone. “Sorry, lady, but i do not think you are made from sin. This is obviously a lie of the imperialist church, to spread mistrust and hate. To divide the oppressed mortals and to maintain the illusion of human supremacy.” Itzil’s face lost its uncomfortable edge. “A smart and confident one. What makes you so certain you know the truth about Itzil better than Itzil?”
“The church lies about the supposed evils of necromancy, too. The gods' regime of theocratic-imperialist control over the circle of life and death is a monopoly of an outdated class of senile tyrannts that has outlived its use. The church is its willing helper and enforcer, the afterlife a reward for metaphysical traitors. The obedient, the good, the grateful slaves go to heaven, the rest is devoured by the Queen of Crows. Only necromancy will abolish the two class system of the afterlife in a dialectic step that supplants the animation principle onto the next stage of historic-metamaterial evolution and ensures justice and undeath for all. It is reasonable to assume such a crass, speciest statement, the vilification of an entire people, to be another fabrication to justify thraldom, tyranny and genocide.”
“But certainly the young one must admit she’s different from the humans? Is she not? Does different not mean worse? Can she really know her? What if she has an alien, wicked heart?”
“You certainly are different. You might have even different needs, even traits that seem malicious, like heightened greed or aggression. I have not learned enough about drakes except what the white, warlike Zmei tell us. But you needn’t be an enemy to the human race. And you are no worse or better than us.”
“A confident answer. The priests will kill you for this.”
The youngster’s gaze was icy. “So they might. But it is better to die free and in the name of peace and sanity than live as a dumb slave of war and unreason.”
“True perhaps. But you can just lie when they ask you, can’t you? Itzil does it all the time. What if Itzil was an imperial spy? You don’t have to shout your convictions at every stranger - and perhaps should not.” The human fell silent. Finger on her chin, she looked down, less in defeat than in wonder.
Xunathos clapped his hands in delight. “What a debate! Well done, Parveen! Well done, Itzil. I already know bringing you here was a wise decision! Anyone, have something else to ask of her?” The other questions and answers were shorter and less profound; About the fins over her earholes and their purpose. About the egalitarian gender roles the drakes possessed, how the demesian commerce houses profited from her people’s infighting, and both sponsored and undertook brutal, calculated slave raids, about the despoiled, withering city states of her home, the Lost Land, as the common tongue called it. The human children seemed to take it in stride; she saw some leave as the day got older, but she was not sure if it was anguish or boredom. One never could tell with humans.
Eventually, the parents called for the last children to return home. Then only the confident youngster gave her a queer look and left too. Xunathos smiled. “So, how was it?”
Itzil shrugged, stretching her tired muscles. "Itzil thought she’d have more disdain for this. She does not like the human curiosity, usually."
"Well, our humble abode is anything but usual, right? ‘Usually’, they just gawk and ask if you are really a woman despite your lack of …mammal features, don’t they? It is always different when you are allowed to talk about yourself. And when they pay attention to you, and not just their need for entertainment by an exotic barbarian that has to justify her own exploitation."
A scally eyebrow raised, the yellow eye almost fully revealed itself. “So you knew Itzil’s pride would make her stay?” He nodded and the smile turned into a grin. She boxed him, as gently as she could. “Crafty demesian. You too make Itzil work for your aims, without a pay.”
Xunathos took the punch with grace and walked ahead, towards the tower. “First off, is doing what you love slavery? Second, I plan to reward you. But the children need to learn there are better things in this world than gold. Talks about your recompense would set a poor example!" Itzil grumbled and walked after him, up the hill.
