Akatosh

At the heart of the Great Furnace, a sacred ceremony was underway. Standing before the priests were the Flamecaller’s greatest warriors. All of them had chosen to don new shapes to serve her better.

The shapes of fiery Ancients, the first dragons created by the Flamecaller: the Banescales.

“Rise, Akatosh.”

The Imperial rose to his feet. As he did, there was a triumphant cry, and his familiar, a blazing phoenix, swooped gracefully around him.

One of the priestesses, an aged Coatl, hovered before Akatosh’s face. “It seems like only yesterday,” she mused, “when you came here for your rite of passage. ’Twas the Flamecaller who led you to your familiar....Truly, you have been chosen for greater deeds, Akatosh. You will make our goddess proud.”

She held up a scroll; drawn upon it was a magnificent Banescale. As the priests resumed their chanting, the ink brightened into lines of brilliant fire. The scroll floated upwards in the air as the fire consumed it....

The blaze engulfed Akatosh completely—but there was no pain. He instead felt power flow into him as his entire body became lighter and stronger.

When the phoenix cried out again, its call was answered by a bugling roar: the voice of a new Banescale. Akatosh had shed his original shape, and together with his familiar, he rocketed towards the heavens. All around the Furnace, there were other voices, other songs arising, as more of the Flamecaller’s newly-transformed warriors appeared. A new generation of Banescales was now taking to the skies.

~ ~ ~
Akatosh had spent most of his life in service to the Flamecaller. Born to a family of Fire Imperials, he had been trained in the arts of battle. His skill had been apparent from a young age, and when he was nearly grown, he had achieved his rite of passage: to find a familiar of his own.

Phoenixes were especially rare, and it was a great honor to be chosen by one as a companion.The priests declared that this partnership had been forged by the Flamecaller herself. Akatosh named his new friend Fawks, and the young Imperial learned much from his familiar, feats of flight and Fire magic that he’d never even dreamed of.

To better serve his clan, he’d taken on the form of a Banescale. There was a need for it: Akatosh’s clan was prosperous and attracted unwelcome attention. Draconian raiders, marauding Beastclans, even the occasional monster—in his new form, he would be able to protect his home more capably.

The end of the clan did not come from any of these, however. It came from an enemy once thought to be long dead: The Icewarden’s oldest creations, the Gaolers, rose anew. In ancient days, they had warred against the Banescales, and for some of them, the animosity burned too deeply to be erased by time.

Akatosh’s beloved clan was attacked by these rogue Gaolers. The Fire dragons, most of them peaceful artisans, found themselves unable to combat the warriors’ fearsome Ice magic. Many of them fled, and soon only Akatosh, their strongest warrior, was left to face the enemy.

He confronted their leader in battle. He expected an icy spell, but instead, she hefted a slender lance, drove it into his scales. Pain, hotter than any fire, ripped through his veins, and he collapsed in agony—he had been poisoned.

He groaned as his limbs went numb. He could only stare in horror as his attacker loomed above him, readying the lance for a second, fatal blow.

It was Fawks who saved him. His loyal familiar flew at the Gaoler, screaming and scratching with his talons. She snarled back, hefting her spear to retaliate—and then, with a piercing shriek that drove the dragons to their knees, the phoenix set himself aflame.

The Gaoler screamed as she came alight. Even her Ice magic was no match for the phoenix’s sacred fire. Her comrades, seeing her destroyed, turned and fled from the encroaching flames.

The exhaustion of the battle, coupled with the poison, sent Akatosh spiraling into unconsciousness. They were nothing, however, next to his grief when he reawakened the next day.

His home was gone. Most of it had been iced over and then shattered by the Gaolers; what pieces remained were now melting in the noonday sun. Streaks of ash and soot showed where many of Akatosh’s clanmates had made their final stands against the marauders.

There were two particularly large piles of ash nearby. With a jolt, he realized that the larger one was all that remained of the Gaoler who had poisoned him. The smaller pile was the remains of Fawks.

Akatosh tried to drag himself closer to his familiar’s ashes, but traces of poison remained in his body. He could barely move. A low, anguished groan inched from his mouth.

His breath stirred the ashes—and then sparks bloomed among them and they burst into flame. Fawks, newly reborn, hovered in front of Akatosh once more.

The phoenix noticed his companion’s predicament. As Akatosh watched in awe and relief, he pressed his cheek against the Banescale’s chest. The spear-wound throbbed, heat pulsing through it, and then Akatosh felt his muscles loosen. The phoenix’s fire and tears were burning away the poison, pulling him back from death’s door.

Soon, Akatosh was back on his feet. But his exhilaration faded as he beheld the remains of his clan. Had some of his fellows escaped? He couldn’t be sure.

He couldn’t stay here, though—not anymore. The rogue Gaolers were still out there. They had already destroyed this place; they could come back and destroy it again. Akatosh doubted that his surviving clanmates would return, and truly, he didn’t blame them. It was time to move on.

~ ~ ~
Akatosh had lived in the Ashfall Waste all his life. After the destruction of his lair, however, he found that the thought of staying here, even with another clan, was too painful. Too many things reminded him of his home, the friends and neighbors he’d lost....

He reached the border between Fire and Lightning. In the old days, he would have turned back; he’d never had any business in the Shifting Expanse. But this time, he and Fawks kept going.

He met many dragons and Beastclans along the way. None of them, it seemed, had encountered the Gaolers who’d destroyed his home, and after some time, Akatosh had to force himself to stop asking about them. He’d been taught that revenge was a hollow goal, that it would poison him more fatally and monstrously than any toxin ever could...

“And then what, Akatosh? Will you ignore the wrongs inflicted upon your clan? Will you run away from those?”

He growled, silencing the bitter voice in his heart, and drove himself on.

He continued heading northeast, and soon he came to a traveler’s lodge frequented by both dragons and Beastclans. Here, he heard tell of another place: a mysterious empire in the Hidden Valley.

“And why do they call it that?” he asked idly—he wasn’t too interested; he was just trying to be polite. “Is it on an island, or shrouded by the gods?”

“You might say that.” The Longneck storyteller blinked up at him. “There are tremendous spells woven around the valley. I’ve never seen it myself, but there are stories from fighters and travelers—supposedly nobody can get through unless the Valley’s ruler wills it. Even invading dragons are confounded by the shields.”

Even invading dragons... “Is there no way to enter the Hidden Valley at all?”

The Longneck shrugged. “Something-something ‘You should not harm the Valley.’ I’m not really sure; maybe the Light-dwellers will have more information. The Hidden Valley is said to be somewhere among the Sunbeam Ruins—if you want to learn more about it, that’s probably the best place to start looking.”

Akatosh soon left the Shifting Expanse. As the Longneck had said, it was in the Sunbeam Ruins that he started to hear more about the Hidden Valley. It’s dangerous, some people told him. It’s a myth, others declared. But perhaps the most useful words he learned were the caveat—

“Those who wish to find the Hidden Valley, but not to harm it, will find themselves upon its doorstep.”

“It must be the protective enchantments,” Akatosh murmured to Fawks, who was fluttering alongside him. The Banescale was now exploring the mountains of the Sunbeam Ruins; flight would have been faster, but a thick fog had gathered, so he’d opted to travel on foot.

“The Valley remains protected because the spells repel anybody with malicious intent against it. If only we’d had...”

But that had been long ago; his clan was ashes and ruins now. Akatosh forced the words back down with a growl. He tried again: “If we approach for a good reason...”

His voice trailed off, but now it was because he noticed that the mist around him was thinning. He could make out mountains...no, walls. There were large shapes up ahead—houses, maybe? A lair?

“We’ve found it!” Akatosh thought—but before he could get the words out, a Gaoler padded out of the mist before him. “Welcome to Outpost Eon, traveler,” he rumbled. His lips stretched back in an unfriendly smile.

~ ~ ~
The Gaoler’s name was Prolixus. Together with another Warden, Minacitus, they oversaw Outpost Eon. It was just the two of them; Outpost Eon was not large—at least on the surface.

“We have been charged by the gods; it is our divine duty to imprison Shade-touched beasts here,” Minacitus explained. She and Prolixus had led Akatosh to one of the blockhouses, where he could rest and warm up. Not that he felt like resting: The silent Outpost, and these strange Gaolers, made him uneasy.

He forced a smile onto his face and said, “I am lucky you found me! I’ve been lost in these mountains for hours—”

“What are you doing in these mountains?” Prolixus asked. His red eyes glinted in suspicion.

“I am a stranger to the Sunbeam Ruins. I merely thought—”

“Nobody comes up here by accident; these mountains are too far removed from other lairs. What brought you here, Banescale? Speak truly.” He sniffed deeply as he spoke, and Akatosh felt a prickle of alarm. Could they smell when he was lying?

“I am a homeless Banescale from the Ashfall Waste,” he explained quietly. “I seek the Hidden Valley. I am hoping that they will find a place for me in their lair.”

Minacitus let out a wry laugh. Akatosh looked sharply at her. “Is it real?”

“It certainly is. It’s nearby,” and she gave him a skeptical look, “but it is doubtful you’ll be able to gain entrance. The enchantments woven around it are quite strong.”

“Have you tried entering it?” Akatosh asked. Those words rang in his mind again: Those who wish to find the Hidden Valley, but not to harm it...

“No. Our duty is here—and the fewer people who know of it, the safer it is for us.” The Gaolers gave him meaningful looks. Akatosh understood what was expected from him, and he promised not to speak of the Outpost.

The Gaolers led him back outside. Akatosh was about to ask which way he should go, but before he could speak, the Wardens turned and headed back into their lair. The mist closed up behind them again, leaving no way for the Banescale to go but forward.

“That was a strange meeting,” he murmured to his familiar. Fawks, who had been quiet throughout the encounter, let out a noncommittal squawk. He fluttered ahead of Akatosh, lighting the way through the mist.

Out here, the fog was still present, though it wasn’t opaque like the mist inside the Outpost. As Akatosh moved forward, he could make out rock crags, bushes and trees. He and his familiar chatted as the minutes passed.

“I was afraid that they’d imprison us there.” Akatosh listened as Fawks warbled a stream of notes back to him. “Minacitus did say she doubted we’d be able to enter. Still...it’s worth a try.” He smiled wanly.

And then with a thump, a dragon landed on the ground before them. In a trice, she had a blade drawn—and more dragons, similarly arrayed for battle, melted out of the mist to surround Akatosh and Fawks.

“Who are you?” Akatosh gasped. The dragon in front of him snorted dismissively. “We must know your name before we can escort you further into the Hidden Valley, stranger. Who are you?”

The Hidden Valley! “We’ve found it!” Akatosh realized, and Fawks let out a triumphant cry.

~ ~ ~
The guards escorted Akatosh and Fawks to the Imperial Palace in Varrfarrinn. As they traveled, Akatosh picked up references to the magic used to protect the valley. The nature of the enchantments meant that only a select few could enter, and the Sectonian Empress took a special interest in those who bypassed these magical strictures. Akatosh, as one of these newcomers, would meet with her in a few days.

He and Fawks were given a simple apartment to stay in. Neither of them really knew what to make of this at first. They hadn’t expected to reach the Hidden Valley so easily—not after the encounter at Outpost Eon.

“You have been granted an audience with Empress Mirage, Traveler Akatosh.”

Akatosh followed the attendant to the throne room. Here, the Empress reclined upon her throne, and splendidly garbed dragons stood at the sides of the chamber: warriors, sorcerers, diplomats...

“You have traveled long to reach this Valley, have you not, Akatosh?”

Akatosh bowed clumsily before the Empress. “Yes, Madam. Um, how did you know that?”

“By the color of your eyes,” Mirage explained with a warm smile. Akatosh cringed inwardly, thinking, “Of course, it’s such an obvious detail! What should I say next...”

He was saved as the Empress encouraged him to describe his journey here. Akatosh stood up straighter, and he explained how his clan had been destroyed, how he had traveled to the Sunbeam Ruins after hearing about the Hidden Valley. He’d climbed up the mountains and into the mist...

“And then your guards found me and brought me here,” he finished. Around him, dragons nodded in satisfaction—but in Akatosh’s mind, the knowledge of Outpost Eon burned like a hot coal. He had promised not to speak of it—but he found it strange that the Sectonians had not brought it up with him.

Did they perhaps...not know about it?

“Is there more you wish to say, Akatosh?” Mirage inquired. The courtiers quieted down—but Akatosh did not speak. In the sudden silence, he became aware of running footsteps, quickly approaching the throne room. Mirage raised her head expectantly.

Five dragons burst into the chamber. All were warriors, resplendent in their armor, their faces tight with worry.

All five of them bore the marks of recent battle.

“Empress, we are under attack!” the Spiral in the lead cried. Her comrades began fanning out to shepherd the courtiers to safety, and the Spiral continued, “Our shields still stand, but monsters, Shade-touched beasts, have penetrated them. They are headed towards the city!”

Shade-touched beasts! Akatosh remembered the Gaolers’ words. Had the beasts escaped, or had the Gaolers...?

“There is an outpost,” he told Mirage, “just outside the Valley. It is run by two Gaolers, Prolixus and Minacitus. Are they...known to you?”

In the tumult, his words were nearly inaudible; Mirage heard every single one, however. Grimly, she shook her head. “I take it this ‘outpost’ has something to do with the monsters ravaging the Empire? No matter—time enough to answer questions once the threat has been dispatched.”

“Let us help you,” Akatosh blurted. Mirage turned to him in surprise, and he reminded her, “I am a trained fighter, and my familiar can support us with his magic. We can be of service to you.”

“Then join us, Akatosh and Fawks. All are welcome in the fight against the Shade.”

~ ~ ~
The Empire had faced threats before, and the citizens were evacuated well ahead of the monsters’ arrival. The Shade had twisted these creatures into outsized, fearsome versions of themselves. With their prodigious strength, they could reduce buildings to rubble in seconds; fell magic radiated from their hides, warping all that was nearby.

“How many of them are there?”

“No more than thirteen,” one of the Empress’ warriors said. She nodded nonchalantly to Akatosh. “Akatosh, is it? Always good to have an extra pair of claws helping out.”

Her expression shifted, and she and Akatosh turned. They watched a huge, dark form leap off a nearby tower. It landed on a deserted street and beat its chest, roaring a challenge to the world.

“A Shade-touched Goldenbeast! Gods, I’ve never seen one of those before....”

“We’ll handle it,” Akatosh growled. He launched himself forward, fire erupting around his wings; Fawks, similarly incandescent, kept pace with him. Together, they shrieked an answer to the Goldenbeast’s challenge.

The battle against the thirteen beasts was long. Powered by the Shade, they were resistant to many spells and shrugged off most of their injuries. But as the battle wore on, more Sectonian reinforcements arrived. Soon the streets were thick with fighters, all standing shoulder-to-shoulder to defend their home, and one by one the beasts were slain.

The final beast hit the earth with a resounding fall. For a long moment, the dragons waited to see if it would rise. It didn’t—and at last, a heartfelt cheer rose from the masses. They had prevailed against the Shade again. The Hidden Valley was safe...for now.

“You mentioned something earlier about an Outpost.” Mirage had found Akatosh again. He was about to reply when he noticed them in the shadow of a building: the Empress’ five greatest warriors, standing guard over two familiar Gaolers. Prolixus and Minacitus had been hobbled with shackles, and they glared sullenly back, unnoticed by the rest of the celebrating crowd.

“I will share what I know,” Akatosh said to the Empress, “but they could probably tell you more.”

~ ~ ~
The two prisoners were escorted to the palace. While the rest of the Empire got to work rebuilding, Prolixus and Minacitus were put on trial. Gradually, the truth came out—

“To think that a god would do this!” gasped the Nocturne whom Akatosh had spoken to before the battle. It had been some weeks since then, and by now he’d learned her name—Daincie—as well as those of the other Councilors.

The rest of the Council of Crowns nodded somberly. The Gaolers had admitted that they had been installed there by the Icewarden, charged with capturing and imprisoning any Shade-touched beasts. This normally would not have been an issue, but the god had placed them there secretly—and their captured beasts had escaped to wreak havoc upon the Hidden Valley.

“This is a grave transgression against the Lightweaver’s sovereignty,” Mirage growled. “Word will be sent to Her Radiance....For now, these Wardens shall be in our custody.”

Elizabeth let out a short, sharp huff. “Plenty of the citizens are furious—not that I blame them. There’s talk that the Wardens should be put to death.”

Daincie’s eyes narrowed. “Is that the best choice here, though? They did not release the beasts on purpose. And they were only following the Icewarden’s orders.”

“Their orders were to restrain the beasts, and they couldn’t even do that. They’re as much a danger to themselves as they are to others. Perhaps execution is—”

“I...I feel...”

Heads turned, and Akatosh shrank back in his seat. He had been allowed to attend the meeting, to share what the Gaolers had told him, but hadn’t thought it best to speak beyond that.

Now, however, seemed like a good time...

“I feel that Queen Daincie is correct. Despite the Wardens’ failure to keep the beasts contained, it’s...it’s possible they might have helped the Empire stay safe a little longer by capturing those beasts in the first place.”

The Council stayed silent, watching and waiting. At the head of the table, Mirage gave a brief nod.

Akatosh continued, “They were also investigating the possibility that other Shade-touched beasts had already come through the shield before and hidden inside the Valley. Their allegiance is to another god—but their goal of impeding the Shade aligns with ours.

“And if we took their lives, would we not be committing the same transgression the Icewarden did: violating another deity’s sovereignty? Perhaps the best thing for now is to imprison them. The Icewarden can decide what their final fate will be.”

A heartbeat passed, then two more, as the Council considered Akatosh’s words...and then, to his great relief, they started murmuring and nodding in agreement. Akatosh was right; they could not afford to anger a god. The Council fell silent as Mirage rose to her feet.

“It’s agreed, then? Let the Wardens be imprisoned in the Dungeon of Eternal Life—there they shall remain until the gods see fit to free them.”

With that, the Council adjourned, and the dragons drifted away on other errands. Mirage, however, beckoned to Akatosh.

“The past few weeks have been...hectic, to say the least. A more formal meeting is in order, but those take time to organize, so I will tell you this now: For aiding my warriors in the protection of the Empire, you and Fawks have my deepest thanks.”

“But of course, Empress. We couldn’t just sit by and do nothing,” Akatosh said. Fawks chirped in agreement.

A faint smile shone on the Empress’ face. “Do you know why you were allowed to sit in today?”

“Err, you wanted more information on the Wardens?”

“Partly,” she admitted, “but I also wished to learn more about how you would handle the proceedings. The dragons who destroyed your home—they were all Gaolers, were they not?”

“Yes, Empress...but they weren’t these Gaolers.”

“Precisely, Akatosh.” Mirage let out a quiet sigh. “It is difficult for many dragons to distinguish between enemies and bystanders. But one such as yourself, who chose to argue for the lives of those whom you have no reason to trust...Some would call that naivete. I, however, prefer to see it as magnanimity. The world needs more magnanimity, I feel.”

Akatosh stammered his thanks. The Empress nodded graciously back, and then she tilted her head, clearly considering something. “I feel we will need your skills in the future, Akatosh. I look forward to speaking with you then.”

~ ~ ~
Mirage did send for Akatosh soon enough. And as it turned out, she had a very special responsibility for him....

“Rise, Akatosh—first King of the Council of Crowns.”

Thunderous cheers greeted this announcement. The newly-crowned King Akatosh smiled back, still reeling from the awesome duty that had been conferred upon him.

The Empire’s years of conflict with the Beastclans were long—but not all Beastclans were enemies. Akatosh was given the task of creating settlements for them in the Valley, ensuring that they could enjoy the same peace the dragons did....

“There will be other threats,” he admitted to himself later on. He was poring over a map of the Empire; Fawks was perched nearby, sleeping peacefully. By his light, Akatosh marked three spots on the map. He could build a village here, or perhaps a ranch...

Perhaps there would be more monsters. Perhaps the Icewarden would exact his revenge. Perhaps there would be other Beastclans, fighting to take the Valley for themselves...

But these particular Beastclans were Akatosh’s to protect, and he would see to it that they stayed safe from all harm. Perhaps someday, the valley would know true peace—but until that day, Akatosh would remain standing strong, working to safeguard his home.

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
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