At Jack's mention of a god, the dragon looked around and roared, “Show yourself!”

Nochd’s head poked up from behind the dragon’s frill of spikes. Standing up from his perch upon the dragon’s neck, he leaned forward, holding onto the dragon’s horns as he looked upside down into one of the dragon’s eyes.

“Hello!” he said brightly.

The dragon roared and whipped her head around. For a couple of seconds, the god held on, flailing through the air with one hand clutched to a horn, but eventually he was hurled through the air, vanishing into the tree canopy.

“Wish I could do that,” Jack said appreciatively.

“He will be back,” the dragon said. “I dislike gods. Eternals in particular.”

“Yeah, I’m headin’ in that direction myself.”

The dragon snorted. “Just be glad it was Nochd whose eye you caught. That one is at least somewhat tolerable.”

“You are too kind!” Nochd said as he strolled out of the woods. For some reason, he was dressed like a 19th-century French revolutionary.

Jack shook his head. If this asshat was tolerable, what were the others like?

“Introductions!” Nochd said, ignoring the scowls directed his way. “Valenthoraxis Rauttenthoria, this is Jack. Jack, this is Valenthoraxis Rauttenthoria.”

“YOU DO NOT SHARE A DRAGON’S NAME!” the dragon roared.

“Oops,” Nochd said. “I forgot about the whole ‘names have power’ thing.”

The dragon looked like it was about to attack Nochd, god or not.

“Aw, hell, you really think I’m gonna remember that?” Jack asked, his breathing somewhat laboured. Sweat now coated his brow and his limbs were getting cold. It occurred to him that there might not be a Stage 7 of Internal Bleeding. “I’m gonna call you Val. Nice and simple.”

The dragon’s head swung to Jack. “A dragon does not have a name like ‘Val.’ Where is the grandeur in a single syllable?”

“It ain’t got any magic power over you either, so there’s that. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die in the next few minutes, so the whole thing is moot.” Jack fell over onto his side.

The dragon looked at him and sighed. “Humans. You could have asked for help, you know.”

“You wouldn’t have granted it,” Nochd noted.

“Of course not. He is a Legend; he will most likely be reborn. But he still could have asked.” The dragon reached out and tapped Jack on the stomach with one claw. A shudder of fire passed through him, burning away the pain and leaving him panting.

Stunned, Jack pulled out his Tome. Sure enough, every condition had vanished except for the one about being hungry. Val seemed utterly nonplussed by the event, already having dragged the feaster bunny corpse over to resume her meal.

Speaking around a mouthful of meat, she said, “Fine. You may call me Val.”

Jack took a moment to lie back, staring at the sky in shock over the disappearance of the pain.

He laughed.

Here he was, on an alien planet with a dragon and a god. Both of whom clearly wanted something from him. The dragon sure as hell wouldn’t have healed him if that weren’t the case, and a more intelligent man would get the hell out of there and head straight to Paulton. Dollars to doughnuts, that feaster bunny was what the Chian’dir had warned him about. That meant a clear path to the city and his family.

He got to his feet and took another look at the dragon. She’d stopped chewing, the meat hanging from her mouth as she stared into the distance. Her eyes were glassy and red, and she had once again become lost in her thoughts.

Damn it, Jack. You’ve always been a sucker for the damsel in distress.

“Alright, Val. What the hell happened?” he said.

The dragon came out of her funk, almost confused by the presence of the rabbit meat in her mouth. She kicked her head back and swallowed it, then looked at Jack. “Happened?”

“Yeah,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I’ve seen that look. It’s the look you get when something gets ripped away from you; something you care about. I know because I’ve seen it in my own mirror more than a couple of times. Now, you tell me what happened and what you want from me. If it’s a good enough reason, I’ll help, but I gotta know the why, not just the what.”

Val narrowed her eyes, then sat back on her haunches and rested her head on the ground in front of him. “It was my eggs.”

Jack cocked his head. “Your eggs? They got something to do with you losing yer magic?”

The dragon let out a rumbling sigh. “Yes. A dragon is nothing without their magic. In the case of my Primal forebears, it is almost the entirety of what they are. That magic does not appear out of nothing, however. When an egg is laid, part of my magic is splintered off and given to my child. No longer mine, but not yet theirs; it forms a bond between us until they are born. Only then does the bond break, allowing them to grow their magic with their bodies; freeing me to recover what I have lost.”

“How weak are you after laying eggs?” Jack asked.

“Normally, it would be minimal,” the dragon said. “Most beings wouldn’t even notice if they approached my lair. But the effects of that loss grow if I am separated from them, as they must draw on my remaining magic to maintain the bond.”

Jack gritted his teeth. “Someone stole yer eggs, didn’t they?”

Val raised her head to the sky and let loose a screaming wail that caused Jack to stagger, his ears erupting in intense pain.

“THEY TOOK THEM FROM ME!” she roared, her breath heaving. Then her neck drooped like she’d been deflated as her head once again dropped to the ground.

Jack winced as his hearing returned, knowing his Well-Aged Trait was probably the only reason his hearing hadn’t been scoured away permanently

“Who took them?” he said over the ringing in his ears. “More importantly, how?”

The dragon hung her head in shame and stabbed her claw down onto the feaster bunny. “This is their work. It is no simple task to bring a feaster bunny to its metamorphosis—I have no idea how they managed it. But when I smelled it near my lair, I couldn’t resist the urge of the hunt.

She turned to the giant rabbit and her fury once again exploded, rearing up on her hind legs and roaring, “GLUTTONY!” Then her head snapped forward with her open mouth wide, emitting a blast of fire so hot that it looked like a bar of white light. It was all Jack could do to instinctively raise his hands in front of his face, but the instant before the wall of heat hit, Nochd stepped in front of him.

“Have I ever shown you my flag collection?” the god said, unfurling a large blue, white, and red tricolour flag that he held between Jack and the incinerating blast. Somehow, the flag blocked the heat from getting to him despite the air around them shimmering as it superheated.

“So many musicals feature prominent flags,” Nochd continued, his casual speaking voice barely audible against the roar of the dragon’s fire. “I wonder why that is? Perhaps they just stage well. Anyway, I see you are losing interest. I’ll put this away.” Just as the dragon’s blast died out, Nochd flicked the flag, the large piece of cloth sucking up his sleeve as though caught in a vacuum.

The clearing had gone silent. Jack stared at the incinerated remains of the feaster bunny, now little more than a blackened skeleton. Even the bones were cracked and falling apart. Jack swung his gaze to Nochd, wide-eyed, but the god was making a big deal of trying to un-bunch the skirt that he was now inexplicably wearing.

Jack’s mind raced. There was no reason for the god to protect him if his Well-Aged Trait was sufficient to handle the heat. But the god had, which meant that it wasn’t. That didn’t seem right, though. Didn’t old people get burns all the time?

It was becoming clear that despite a few lucky outcomes, Jack couldn’t rely on his Trait to protect him from harm. While yes, there were many things to which he was now invulnerable, it wasn’t everything. Burns, for instance. Blunt-force organ damage, apparently. Probably electrocution too. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even feel short of breath underwater, right up until he poisoned himself with carbon dioxide. That was hardly a benefit, and precisely the kind of thing he’d need to watch out for. Not to mention the edge cases. Maybe Jack was immune to regular fire but not dragonfire? There was no way of knowing.

Something to think about for sure.

The massive dragon peered down at Jack. Despite the rage she had just shown, all she exhibited now was sadness.

“They lured me from my lair,” she said, her voice low and tired. “When I was gone, they slipped through my wards and stole my eggs. I sensed their trespass and abandoned my hunt, but it was too late. I returned to find my nest empty save for a single thief who stayed behind to tell me that if I pursued them, they would smash the eggs and slaughter my children. Not only would they die, my own magic would never recover what was lost.”

“Who the hell volunteers to tell a dragon that she ain’t gettin’ her kids back?” Jack asked incredulously.

“The man knew I would kill him but said it was his duty to share the message,” Val said. “I obliged his expectations.”

Jack paced around the clearing, tugging at his moustache as he thought.

“Gotta be a religious nut, right?” he suggested. “A cult or something? Nobody does a thing like that if they don’t think there’s something mighty nice waiting for them on the other side.”

He stopped and turned to the dragon. “Hang on. How the hell could you lose so much magic when laying your eggs that it left you unable to get them back?”

“A fair question, and normally it would be a trivial task,” she said, “but they are doing something with my eggs that drains me of my magic. I don’t know how they managed it, but they have.”

“Damn. So if you attack them, they smash your eggs and you lose all your magic?”

“That is what I fear,” Val said. “And even worse, I can feel that two of my eggs have already hatched. This is not right. A dragon cannot achieve sentience without the help of their brothers and sisters. Deny them that, and they are left as little more than beasts.”

“Ain’t that peachy,” Jack grumbled. “So you either lose your kids or they keep draining you until…what? You’re dead?”

Val gave a throaty growl. “There is little difference between a dead dragon and a dragon without magic.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

She let out a huff. “I thought myself out of options until some people from Palmyre came and requested my assistance with the feaster bunny, which had grown in power since I hunted it. I asked for their help in exchange. It was humiliating. While I am familiar with the notion of appealing to someone else for aid, it is not something my kind are accustomed to doing themselves.”

“How’d it go over?” he asked.

The dragon shook her head and settled herself on the ground. “They refused.”

“Of course they did,” Jack said, his bushy eyebrows pulling together in annoyance. “You probably didn’t tell them about losin’ your magic or your eggs or any of that stuff, did you?”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed.

Jack shook his head. “Bah. Yeah, I get it. You’re not used to showing weakness. Hell, for all I know, they might have decided to try and kill you for the…what’s it called? ‘Expee?’ Am I sayin’ that right?”

The dragon shrugged and made a so-so gesture with her claw.

“Eh. Doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “What matters is that they likely figured anything a dragon couldn’t handle was certain death for them.”

“I am not a simpleton,” Val growled. “I am aware of their thinking.”

“So why’d you tell me about your magic when you didn’t tell them?”

Val’s toothy maw curled up into a smile. “Because you are a Legend. And because you carry the mark of a god.”

Jack glared at Nochd, who was on the other side of the glade, whooshing back and forth on a swing suspended from the highest branches. As Jack and Val watched, the god leaned too far back and toppled off, flailing upside-down for a moment before coming straight down on his head. There was a loud crack, and the body slumped into a heap, decomposing rapidly until nothing was left behind but some flowers that popped up alongside an unadorned headstone.

“Yeah,” Jack muttered. “So I’ve heard.”

The dragon stretched out her neck, her gigantic head looming only a couple of metres from Jack’s. Even in her magically weakened state he could feel the incredible power radiating from the ancient beast. The idea that she could need his help was laughable.

“What do you say?” Val asked. “Will you track down those who took my eggs and return them to me?”

A paper appeared in the air.

Jack was getting really sick of these things, but if ever there was one he needed to read, it was this one.

Quest Opportunity: “The Dying Dragon” Part 1

The dragon Valenthoraxis, or “Val,” has asked you to help recover her eggs. Find the eggs and the people responsible for taking them.

Reward for Success: XP. The favour of a dragon.

Penalty for Failure: Maybe nothing, maybe Valenthoraxis uses the last of her strength to track you down and kill you. Dragons are funny that way.

ACCEPT? YES/NO

Jack ran a hand across his head as he debated his options.

Val needed help. There was no doubt about that. But his family was in Palmolive or Paulo Alto or wherever without him, and they needed him too. Going after these folks was a hell of a risk, though. Especially considering the dragon might blame him if things went sour.

Another page appeared before him, though this one was on a heavier bond of paper and written in a precise cursive script.

Having a dragon owe you a favour is never a bad idea.

- Verna -

Jack grunted. He had no idea why the space lady weighed in, but she probably had her reasons. Hopefully they were good ones.

“Alright,” he said to Val. “I’ll do it. But only if you don’t put the blame on me if I can’t make it happen. I ain’t putting myself in that kind of position.”

“Agreed,” the dragon said. She bowed in thanks as Jack accepted the quest. “The perpetrators are to the northeast, towards the Bookspine Mountains. If you accomplish your quest, I will know it.”

“Of course it’s to the east,” Jack grumbled. “Nothing’s to the west except the family I’m doing all this damn walking for.” He sighed and checked the sun’s position in the sky. “Might as well set out now. You good?”

Val grumbled, her throaty rumble shaking the earth like a mortar shell. “I am better in this moment than I will be in the next, and worse than I was in the last. I commend my fate over to you, Jack, that you may arrest that trend.”

He stared at the dragon, then departed through the trees, shaking his head.

“No pressure, Jack. None at all.”