Book 4: Chapter 81: Cunning

Book 4: Chapter 81: Cunning

Elijah crouched on the tree limb, using his long tail for balance as he watched the creature down below. At the most basic level, it looked a little like a rhinoceros, though with scales instead of a thick, leathery hide. It also had seven horns jutting from its densely armored head and a series of spikes flowing down its spine.

So, perhaps it was more like a dinosaur than a rhino.

Either way, it didn’t matter. The creature was precisely what he’d been looking for over the past few days. Its suitability for his plan was based on three things. First, it wasn’t just huge. The thing was the size of a brontosaurus, with a stout, low-slung body that would make it a nightmare to fight. Second, it was incredibly territorial, and Elijah had watched it slaughter more than a couple of other beasts that had wandered nearby. It had also chased a sleek, wolf-like creature for more than a mile.

And finally, it swirled with ethera strongly enough that Elijah could feel it, even in his much less-sensitive form. That told him that it was powerful – perhaps even more so than all the creatures in the crater, which was perfect for his plan.

The idea was simple enough. He wanted to pick a fight with the enormous creature, then lead it on a merry chase into the crater, where he hoped the other beasts would respond to the newcomer with violent intentions. A fight would ensue, and if everything went according to his plans, they would finish each other off.

However, simple didn’t mean easy, and the anticipation kept Elijah glued to the branch. That monster was large enough that even a glancing blow would flatten him. There would be no margin of error. No room for mistakes. He would have to be perfect.

To that end, he’d already mapped out his path. The crater was more than a mile away, which was an incredible distance for his small form. Still, he’d practiced running back and forth so often that he knew he could make the trip without missing a beat. The only variable was the giant beast’s reaction.

In the back of his mind, Elijah knew that he was driven by instinct as much as by his own brain. He was reliving a real event, and as such, the whole experience was on rails. That didn’t remove the danger, though. He could still die. And he could certainly fail. But the path to victory seemed clear.

It was an odd feeling, knowing that he was in control, yet not, and rather than trying to grow accustomed to it, Elijah had chosen to simply accept it, then move on. Already, he’d spent days on this endeavor, and aside from not wanting to spend any longer than absolutely necessary, his ever-more-insistent instincts told him that he was on the clock.

So, without further hesitation, he leaped from the branch, landing on the rhino-lizard’s armored head. A second later, and he was burying his claws into one of the thing’s many eyes. The orbs were larger even than Elijah’s entire body, but they were curiously vulnerable. His claws bit deep, and an eruption of vitreous gel coated his body. Yet, even as the creature bucked and trumpeted its ire, Elijah moved on to the next eye.

Then the next after that.

In all, he savaged four eyes before leaping free and racing away. Predictably, the beast followed, driven by the pain of the attack as well as its territorial nature. Elijah leaped from one fallen branch to the next, dipping in and out of various depressions as the beast stomped its way through the forest, plowing through trees, uprooting them as it went. Apparently, Elijah had compromised the beast’s depth perception, and so, it found it difficult to avoid trees it would have otherwise dodged.

That was the only reason he stayed ahead of it, confirming that his instincts had put him on the right path.

On and on he raced, and the mile or so he had to travel felt like ten times that. Still, when he finally reached the crater, he knew that his task was just beginning. He skidded down the slope, aiming for the hiding place he’d found the day before. Just as Elijah slid under the rock and into the small space underneath, his enormous pursuer thundered out of the forest and, without hesitation, barreled into the mass of beasts surrounding the flower.

The enraged creature spared nothing in its path, ripping into them with its horns as it completely forgot about the pest that had started it all. The other animals didn’t go down without a fight, and they dished out hundreds of wounds in the space of a few minutes. But where they could only barely get through its thick armor, the rhino-saur killed with ever twitch of its head.

It was a massacre, but not one without cost.

Elijah crouched in his hiding place, thankful for his tiny size, as the beast rampaged through the crater.

Of course, it was not the only powerful monster in the area. Far from it. The closer it came to the flower, the stronger its opponents were. And given the sheer numbers arrayed against it, its wounds soon grew more numerous and far more grievous. Still, it fought on, well past the point where it would even consider retreat.

Besides, it was a king of the forest. Running away had never been an option.

But he would not be defeated.

He couldn’t let himself give in.

He would claim his treasure.

Gradually, he staggered forward, and after what felt like an eternity, Elijah reached the lotus. He could feel the power wafting off of it, nearly strong enough to destroy him just as surely as the backlash from his skill had. It didn’t matter.

It was his.

Reward? Trophy? Treasure? Or salvation? Maybe it was all four. Regardless, every one of Elijah’s instincts told him to climb to the top of the lotus. There, he would finally be able to rest.

So, he did, using his sharp claws to dig into the plant’s rubbery stalk. His body was tiny. He barely weighed more than a few pounds. But it felt like he had the weight of the world on his back.

He could feel his scales sloughing off, revealing blistered flesh. He ignored it. He was in so much pain that it had long since lost meaning. There was power within him, though. A bright sun had bloomed stronger with every step. He’d felt it inside of him, and that feeling drove him just as surely as his instinct.

Finally, he reached the blue petals. The fire burned him, yet the pain was nothing compared to the agony already coursing through him. Or that was what he told himself. In reality, he was on the verge of surrendering to unconsciousness. If he’d been in control, he would have. But his instincts had taken over, and he had become a passenger in his own body.

It didn’t matter.

He wanted the same thing his instincts wanted.

He only had to hold on. To endure. To persist. So, that was what he did, and after a few moments, it felt like he was watching himself from afar. He finally saw the lizard’s body. It resembled a salamander, though with a crested mane and fire dancing along its scales.

He watched. He felt. The duality of his existence was difficult to track. He was Elijah, a witness. But he was also the salamander, driven forward by instinct and fate as it embarked on a task that would change the multiverse.

At last, the little lizard crested the petal and tumbled forth, passing the collection of stamens and coming to rest on the carpal. For a moment, Elijah thought that it – no, he – had died. But with a twitch, it rolled back to its feet. Then, miraculously, it released the power within it.

Though it did not send out a large gout of superheated flame. Instead, the power came out the other end, taking the form of a large, golden egg. Only once the egg had pushed free did the lizard finally give in to death.

For a few seconds, Elijah felt as if he was hovering over the entire scene, and he watched as the world sped up. His heart caught in his throat when the egg hatched, but instead of another salamander, the first dragon was born.

That’s when Elijah’s mind went blank, and after a couple of moments, he once again appeared on the cold tiles within the Empire of Scale.

His patron knelt beside him as he wept, her warm hand on his back. He knew he’d just seen something quite profound. The beginning of real power. But all he could think about was the salamander’s sacrifice. Its suffering. Its perseverance. It might not have been a dragon, but it had certainly possessed the spirit of one. Going forward, he could only hope to emulate its example.