//------------------------------// // 4. Wake Up Call // Story: Time to Shine // by Easysnuggler //------------------------------// “The few unrelated books, contain pictures whose imagery is clear. They show diamond dog like creatures interacting with alicorns and griffons always in what appears to be positions of authority.” —Pena “On the Origins of Ponies*(*and Others) and Magic” 4. Wake Up Call Scorcher dreamed feverishly of shooting stars, tossing, and turning in his sleep. It was a vivid dream in which castles fell and a blue star filled his senses. Blue smells, blue sounds, blue tastes, blue touches… A blue blur was shaking him. He opened and closed his dream eyes. It was so hard to focus. Finally, a blue dragoness hauled off and whacked him. “Ouch” he said. “Dreams aren’t supposed to hurt.” “That is a lie we tell the young.” The long vanished and presumed dead dragoness Ember had smacked him on the nose with the Bloodstone Scepter - the artifact whose possession marked the current Dragon Lord. She was yelling at him. “Greenwood Scorcher! You lazy lizard! Wake Up!”. She was tiny, and very blue - like when he was a hatchling. But he was large now, his real size, very large if not a behemoth - few dragons were behemoths these days - except for Smolder of course. But the pretty yellow dragoness now slept even more than the other big ones. Whack! His nose took another blow. “Stop it!” he roared at her in his dream. “It’s coming back!” She shouted at him. “What?” He asked. Ember looked incredulously at him, scrunched her nose and made a face to speak… — Scorcher, the youngest confidant of the Dragon Lord, awoke with a pain in his snout. He had been dreaming of little blue Ember. The large red dragon’s dreams were usually gray, colored like the dark of his cavern was now - a tired dirty haze. But this dream had been different. He sniffed. A single drip of super oxygenated blood ran down his red snout. He smelled rust and brimstone. He wiped his nostril. “What the?” He blinked. “What time is it?” he wondered aloud, looking out at daylight. Early spring probably, judging by the lingering snow and green shoots poking up outside his cave. Someone, most likely the Kobold servants had kept the place clean and had replenished the hoard he’d nibbled on in his sleep, but they didn’t seem to be around. Crawling out stiffly he looked over the volcanic plain of the dragon lands. He had a good view from his cavern here near the top edge. Far below the fields and ring of the dragon amphitheater lay. It was the outdoor meeting center of the dragons and had many worn paths across the lava. His prestigious location here above the amphitheater of Dragonholme at the heart of the territory of the Dragon Lands marked him as an important dragon. One of the advisors to the Dragon Lord. Not that she needed much advice with how much sleep she had been getting, sometimes up to a hundred years at a time, and him along with her. Perhaps she had awoken and that was why he was awake? It was greener than he remembered. And less… volcanic. Rough black smoke swirled overhead but all the lava had crusted over, and only a few fumaroles belched steam and gasses into the air. Far across from him, a path led straight up the mountain to the Dragon Lord’s cavern here in East Lair. Wreathed in smoke and steam it obscured further view. The mountains here at the top of Dragonholme ridge sounded quiet, but the black haze of sleeping dragons was not as thick as it usually was. Looking down into the bowl of the valley he saw a few other dragons. There were small ones, teenagers most likely, though dragons grew slower these days so they might have been in their twenties or early thirties? He thought he saw one he recognized and started to walk slowly down the path toward her into the valley below the council caverns. He cracked his long neck and twisted his head from side to side, stretching his long dormant limbs. The dragoness was looking away. Some kobolds had been attending her. He thought it was Ashes, gray and white with pale purple spines and a spaded curled tail. But she was older now. She even had wings! “Hey Ashes! He shouted, “when is it?” Surprised, the white dragon turned as she saw the much larger red beast of a dragon approaching her from above. Her eyes opened wide, and she shifted slightly. She turned her head away and spoke softly. “Greetings Great Scorcher, Ashes was my mother, I’m ‘Dust’. I am very glad to meet you. We thought you had gone to sleep for good, like the others…” “For good, eh? Still happening some then?” He stretched his wings and cracked his neck again. A few dragons had fallen asleep and not woken up. Doubtless they would eventually, but usually only the largest slept for more than a century at a time. “Oh, yes sir, not many of us are awake. The Kobolds tend to them but like you they mostly just sleep and sleep. My own mother is sleeping and hasn’t woken up for two decades now.” The polite dragoness said. She gave a sad look. She was pretty in a mousy sort of way, and so timid! “Well, how long was I out for?” he said roughly, cracking his neck again and drawing up his height, leaning back and stretching out his spine and wings like a cat waking up. “I don’t know sir. Several centuries at least I suppose. You’re sort of a famous dragon, Lord Scorcher, the youngest councilor ever. They use your example to teach others that they can still achieve great things even when young Lord Scorcher.” “Just Scorch or Scorcher is fine. Is Smolder still Dragon Lord?” “Well, yes. But she's still sleeping. She’s still alive though! We just checked.” “Hell of a way to rule a kingdom.” He rubbed his eyes and his enormous snout. Now that he took stock, he realized he had grown… large. Not as large as one of his parent’s generation but twice as large as he had been. From snout to vent the rather large dragoness was half his size. His stomach rumbled emptily. “Is there anything to eat?” He asked hopefully. “Oh yes sir, lots, er, that is if you don’t mind loot.” “Loot?” “Well yes, treasure from empty hordes. We mine hardly at all these days, so many dragons have passed. Food is always in claws reach. And don’t worry, there's barely any smell way up here. We have the kobolds bury the carcasses and wash the gems.” Scorcher was appalled, and he thought it showed on his face. “Er-l, just how many dead dragons are we talking about here?” “Well on Dragonholme alone there are at least thirty vacant hordes, all over the dragon lands there must be thousands. The kobolds have cleaned all the ones here but they're so small and there are so many of us, it's quite beyond them even given time. They bury them when they pass, a few a year at least. But, well they’re everywhere.” He was shocked. “I’m shocked.” Scorcher said. “Please come with me sir, the other drakes will want to meet you. It’s been so long.” As they walked down the path periodically Dust would ring a metal plate. These were placed along the path to either side. She rang each of the enormous bells loudly. They tended to get a bit bigger as they went down. Dragons were making their way to the amphitheater, some with short glides, but most chose to walk. A few small kobold servants scampered away from the dragons as they walked. The colorful little dragonish lizards were quite numerous. They wore satchels and vests with pockets or tail bags, and some had slings and small knives. They were useful servants and attentive usually, but they scampered at the edges of the dragons, staying out of their way. Scorcher was not used to seeing so many together. He let Dust lead him down into the sheltered grotto of the amphitheater. The dragons had all quietly gathered. It was quiet. Too quiet for juvenile dragons. Looking at the closest he realized these little ones weren’t teenagers. Some had leathery wrinkles, multiple frill horns and the spots of advanced age. These dragons were in their second or third century at least! Only a single orange fellow was larger than Dust. None of the Kobold servants were there. The dragons spoke quietly amongst themselves murmuring and looking at him. There were only five hatchlings that he counted. Something is very wrong, he thought. “Where are the Kobolds?'' he asked. One of the dragons, a cyan old one with strabismus who reminded Scorcher of a gray mail mare he had once met, replied. “We don't let the slaves come down into the speaking circle.” “Slaves? Servants you mean.” “I mean what I say. The alicorns are dead and gone. Dragons rule here and kobolds do what we say. What difference does it make?” Scorcher inadvertently growled. “ALL THE DIF…!”, he stopped, realizing he was shouting when the other dragons all crouched down. He started again, forcing himself calmer. Anger never helped. He drew his claw across his breast like his pony teacher Starlight had taught, pushed out his frustrations and annoyance and breathed out coolly. “All the difference in the world. We are dragons. Dragons don’t keep slaves. We do not enslave anyone; we are not diamond dogs! And kobolds are dragons - of a sort. They are supposed to be our friends and our responsibility. They are our cousins, and…” he searched his memory for the term “…’attendants’. They swore oaths to serve us. Willingly, not as slaves.” “As you say, great one” she replied. Scorcher felt patronized but her words were respectful if not her tone. He let the matter drop for now. He remembered arguing with Smolder and Ember about the dragon hood of Kobolds. He looked over the thirty-three dragons. He counted them twice while he thought of what to say. They looked at him expectantly. The sun shone directly down upon him, but the wind was cold. “Where are the older dragons, the bigger drakes?” A young green hatchling with purple spines that reminded Scorcher of an inverted Dragon Lord Spike, not yet at his first molt, opened his snout and replied. “This is all of us. All that is awake I mean.” “What here in the valley?” Dust looked at him and tilted her head sadly, “Scorcher, you misunderstand.” said Dust waving her delicate clawed hand to indicate all the dragons. “No. These are all the dragons in the world.” Scorcher felt his stomach drop. Thirty-three.