Flamehatched (The birth of Cinder)

[Spider]

Persistent clouds kept the heat of the day trapped towards land. Out on the piers where Shae was working there was a breeze, though the warm wind wasn't much comfort to those who'd been working. Sticky humidity merely blown about. Moored at one pier in particular was a ship from the Helston fleet, largely deserted with sails drawn and wrapped. One bunch of sailcloth was missing from the rigging altogether. The pier itself was likewise rather empty except for two sailors guarding the gangplank. They were playing a game of dice that was being observed by one russet-furred Fox. The one fellow kept patting the animal for luck while the other seemed to think the creature a bad omen.

Even during the daylight, there were shadows. Spider's forays to the Citadel thus far had revealed to him spells, magics, that enhanced the plethora of enchanted items he carried, and his own (rather small) sorcerous skill; in essence he had learned how to Shadow Walk at will, and use the Shadow plane's paths to travel about. A warehouse near the docks provided enough of the shadow-essence to use, and Spider stepped out of the relative darkness into the cruelty of the light. Even overcast, it was bright for him, but his long training, and wide-brimmed hat, did compensate fairly well. He first approached the guarding sailors, his thumbs hooked in his belt and not grasping a weapon's hilt.

"Vendui. Forgive the interruption. May I pass to speak with Shae?" A brief tip of fingers to his hat was given the nearby Fox.

The duo seemed a bit more concerned about an argument regarding the last roll of the dice, such that it took them a moment to fully take in the figure requesting access to the ship. The fellow who thought Fox was a bad omen paled considerably. His companion was the first to recover. "Close yer yap, it's rude. 'E knows th' Admiral's witch. An' look, th' luck fox knows 'im." For the 'luck fox' had waved his tail in greeting and offered the winged Drow something approaching a grin. "Go righ' on up, but mind ya don't step on 'er work. She gets might feisty 'bout tha'." Once up the gangplank, it would become clear what the sailor meant. Spread across a large chunk of the real estate on the top deck were pieces of sailcloth, most in some stage of drying. Shae had painted herself into a corner behind a maze of narrow gaps and was in the process of treating a large swath of the canvas with a roller brush on a pole.

The Drow nodded his understanding to the speaking sailor, finding some amusement in the reaction of the other, though no emotion touched his face. His eyes glowed softly, for many Drow a sign of calm purpose, rather than the bright glow of passion or rage, as he watched his step very carefully, avoiding the sailcloth as best he could.

He did not approach too close, only within loud speaking distance, lest he misstep. "Vendui, Shae. Forgive me for seeking you out here. Shall I return at another time?" Words and demeanor masked a growing sense of urgency, but Shae might pick up on a subtle tinge of his masked emotion, at this range.

The woman kept working during his initial approach. She'd been at it for some hours now, as evident by the way her shirt was sticking to the small of her back. When at last he stopped to speak to her in the no man's land between two drying cloths she shifted the roller to a nearby tray and took a break for water. "Spider, vendui, ol zhah ula." One draw from the bottle later and her voice was a bit stronger. "What can I do for you?"

A brief smile formed at her Drowish - of all he knew who were not Drow that spoke the language, he found her fluency the most natural. It reaffirmed her rendition of her earlier years, for Spider was seldom one to take a person's word without other indicators. Paranoia was a beast, but it kept him alive.

Then the smile vanished and he said, without further preamble, "The egg is soon to hatch. I have it at the Citadel. Can you sojourn there with me now?"

Shae's expression went a bit flat. Not out of displeasure, mind you, the woman was processing his words and what impact they had on her current state. Gold eyes darted from him to the unfinished sail to her current clothes. "When you say soon, do you mean at any moment or within the next few days?" Another sip, more animation. "How long of a sojourn and merely for my company or are you in need of an extra pair of hands?"

Shae was a woman of many questions, rapid fire, but Spider had spent enough time with her to know this. He answered in order:

"I believe within hours. I am not sure how long, but not much longer than the hatching - I do need your help. I am keeping the egg in a room of the Citadel dedicated to Fire, and an extra spell-wielder could prove very useful. Fox is of course welcome."

It was only then that some of his inner tension and nervousness displayed as a subtle brightening of the eyes.

His succinct responses were helpful. In situations such as this, that rapid fire was a tool to gain the information she needed to make the choices presented to her. Just one more. "Do you know whether or not the situation of the Isle hampers communication, either technical or magical, with the city?" Motion during this last question. The fact that she was squaring away the supplies she had been working with while a sail still remained unfinished suggested that she intended to accompany him.

"I am not sure what you mean. It is only with the Key to the Citadel that I am able to reach the place. If you mean can you communicate to someone here while there, I cannot be sure. There could be a device powerful enough to do so. I have found... many things there. And the library is the best I have yet seen in any world."

He paused a moment, and withdrew from under his coat the Key itself, a star sapphire glimmering in the handlepiece. It began to glow softly, shedding bluish starlight, and he extended his hand to her. "Call Fox now if he is to come, Shae."

Hesitation warred with curiosity. Such was evident in the way she eyed the key. No visible motion or audible sound was made to summon Fox, but the canid approached anyway. With the ease of practice the woman caught the reynard as he sprang towards her chest and hoisted him the extra foot to her shoulders. "I may need to leave in an emergency. I don't expect such, but the chance remains. I expect you'll facilitate that if necessary." The steady gaze that served as a prelude to her moving forward to take the offered hand cemented that expectation as a demanded condition.

"It is not as if I intend to keep you there longer than the hatching. No longer than this night. Of that I can assure you."

Simple words, and his hand remained extended. A slight smile for Fox's approach; the familiar always seemed to be where he was needed, even without summoning. More agreeable in certain ways than Sword Spiders, or perhaps simply more astute.

"Much can happen in a single evening, Spider." He had not quite assuaged her concerns, but curiosity had won. A slender hand that held none of the fragility her relatively slight form might suggest found its way to the one offered in her direction. "I am ready."

"Much indeed. But I must use this Key to transport you, and I will not do so in the middle of a dragon hatching." He grasped her hand firmly, and instead of stepping toward the lengthening evening shadows, spoke a few words of Arcane Draconic, one of the most powerfully magical languages he knew (a smattering of). The docks quite suddenly fell away, then the city beneath, winds rushing past them in a gale force, protected by a sort of bubble of energy emanating from the Key. Time seemed to stretch, and as the city lights beneath disappeared, it was the light of night-sky stars that streaked past them.

Then blackness, a void of nothing. The three were yet physical - Spider's hand yet gripped Shae's - but it was quite as if they were literally in a nowhere place, a Nothingness that spoke of ancient entropy and the primal birth of the multiverse. Off in the directionless distance was a point of light, almost a star, but steadier in its radiance. They shot toward it forthwith, and it grew, until suddenly the Olympian columns and dome of the Citadel could be seen.

Another slowness, as though passing through gelled air, and they arrived, none the worse for wear (physically) in a courtyard of sorts, with a dazzling fountain in its center. The 'water' it produced seemed made of the same starlight that suffused the diminishing glow of the Key.

"Welcome, Shae, Fox, to the Citadel of Stars," whispered Spider, his tone hushed by the recent travel and the power he'd brought to bear.

There were some benefits to having a familiar that were rather obvious. One such was an extra pair of eyes, a second perspective to strengthen memory and observation. Every bit of the experience, from departure to arrival, was taken in twofold. Compartmentalized for later review. At the moment, Shae was focused on simply appreciating the simple beauty of the Citadel. Not for the first time, she was struck with a thought, a lament. "These towers should be open. Such large structures for a single person and the occasional visitor? Repositories of knowledge and power with empty halls. It's almost criminal." In the courtyard she released his hand, taking a step towards the fountain. Her voice was quiet, but it was that simple sorrow that hushed her tones rather than awe.

"Do you also think the baronial manors should be open to the public? They are won by the victor, not the public, and serve as homes. But I will say this, for I know it to be true of the Citadel. Without the Key and my presence, none could survive the immense amount of power focused in this place. I suspect it is true of the other Towers. But this is also my home, for now. Would you have me open my sanctum to any and all, in this land where demon lords and petty gods walk among us? There must be security, Shae. And I am not so trusting as to allow the chance of some dangerous foe to simply walk in and plumb the secrets that I have earned. Knowledge is power, but disseminating it freely dilutes it."

He explained the reason, such as it was, while walking with her toward the fountain. "Do not touch the Essence there, Shae. Without the Key in your hand it would burn you to a crisp." Now that they were in the Citadel his urgency seemed a little less, for surely the egg was not far. If Spider was correct, hours yet might pass before Cinder's birth.

Expression schooled, the woman expressed the depth of her distaste with a simple tsk. When she spoke, she managed to suppress her exasperation. "Yes, as it happens. Not like a library. Not like a business. Not like a completely public domain. These places each have the capacity and the space to become self-sustaining entities. In fact they often are without some person playing at magic games to come and open them up. Even more accessible are the baronies. You could, without much trouble, restrict access to certain sections. Keep private that which is lived in and actually, functionally utilize that which would be beneficial to others." Pausing, she continued on a slightly different vein. "I'm not suggesting a lack of security, or that the secrets be available to any but the holder of title, but there is advantage to cultivating a permanent court. And if you're about to tell me it's not possible I'm afraid I won't believe that. You are the Keeper, not the slave to this structure."

Shaking her head she moved away from the fountain. "If you're worried about losing an advantage, make others work for the privilege."

"Ah, but therein lies the rub. These are not permanent courts. Every two months, such a brief time even to the shorter-lived, must battle be joined to decide who may come here. If, say, the Archmage was given an uncontested year? Then could such measures be put in place. Each tower takes on, absorbs certain aspects of its Keeper, I believe. But each Keeper is different. I would not restrict access to this place if the seeker gave me good reason, and I could personally assess their threat level."

He smiled faintly, and continued, "I am a Drow elf, Shae, do not ask me simply to change the methods which allowed me to escape the Spider Queen and the tyranny of my people, for the sake of a two month reign of power. I will use this place to full advantage now that I have secured my power, and will allow certain to walk its halls. But not for sightseeing."

As they walked toward the domed structure itself, he murmured, "This Citadel has places within it granted to each element, as the Archmage has control of each, and the essence of the Isle's magic. We are approaching the Room of Fire. It will be hot, and likely uncomfortable. Do not be alarmed if I shed some of my clothing." Entering past the front gate's open archway, he proceeded to hand his coat on a hook there, shed his shirt, and pushed his boots off with one foot after the other. Even that heavy broadsword, is rapiers, and belts of knives were removed. "Avoid anything metal touching your skin."

"Your court cannot be permanent, but a court for the location could be. I realize I'm explaining this to unsympathetic ears, so no, I don't exactly expect this conversation to effect change in any real sense. It's something the community as a whole may be able to put in place without actually disturbing the precious advantage of holding a key. All the same, I find the closed nature of these structures to be reflective of poor design and never did put much stock in perpetuating any practice for the excuse of 'that's how we've done it so far.' "

Rolling her shoulders was a diminished gesture with the weight of Fox upon them, but she did it anyway to displace some of her agitation. Shae took steps to follow him and made note of his stripping. "Have you knowledge of spells to allow you to endure the elements?" Shae sat down right in the corridor and moved Fox to her lap. "I'll be ready to enter in ten minutes. At such time, if you would like to be more comfortable in the heat, I will facilitate." The sylph had no intention of shedding what clothing she had, which amounted to a plaid work shirt, jeans, and boots.

"You assume much, Shae. I am merely using what *I* have earned to my benefit. I am no paladin, nor priest of the gods of charity. When you rise to the rank of Mage, for I have no doubt you will, and win a Tower, you may do as you wish. I do what I feel must be done for my safety. And that instinct has never failed me, not to my demise."

As he spoke he fished into his trousers, a pocket there containing a heavy golden ring, which he placed on a finger. "This ring allows me to walk into the heart of a volcano. It will suffice. Take your time."

Like his namesake, Spider was patient, moreso than most Drow, and merely stood, observing her casually. Something like a parade rest, which he could hold for hours on end. Ten minutes was of no concern.

"Spider, my complaints aren't about you. I may have been attempting to persuade you of the viability of my vision, but that's about it. My assumptions are about this system of stewardship as I have seen it in my months here. You needn't rationalize what you are choosing to make of your Archmagehood to me, that's not what I was after." Silence from the sylph thereafter for the duration of the ten minutes. At its conclusion, she returned Fox to her shoulders and stood.

As he had professed to be well protected by the ring he wore, she focused her efforts on the spell she had used that space of time to procure. Words whispered forth from her mouth in the Ignan tongue. Hissing and crackling like the smallest flame, low-throated rumbling suggesting a subterranean inferno. A space of seconds as the spell of adaptation took root in the two forms before him, then her incantation faded. "After you."

He didn't stare at her spell work, though it was of interest; he tracked certain movements, and words, peripherally, though of course he would not understand the extent of her wind-based magic. Some said all magic came from the same source, but the ways in which it expressed were as varied as its practitioners.

Time for debate over stewardship was passed, and the business for which they had come, nigh. Once she and Fox were protected, he folded his wings over his shoulders like an additional cloak, concealing his torso, and approached one of the doors leading off the main inner court. The Citadel was far larger inside than its outer dimensions would have one believe, and while the door he selected should have opened onto the grounds, instead it led to an additional pocket space.

Sweltering heat and the rich red glow one might find in the heart of a massive volcano rushed past the door when he opened it, leading to a large, basalt cavern as hot as any blast furnace. Shelves and nooks lined the walls, which surrounded an inner, swirling pool of magma. Set in the center of the magma on its own raised dais was the egg itself, patches of the red leather already ignited by heat. The egg was trembling visibly from a distance, and long cracks had begun to form along its side.

Spider gestured Shae and Fox to follow him as he stepped into the room; once this had happened he spoke a word and the door sealed behind them, melding into the basalt wall seamlessly.

"I will need you to assist me in coaxing Cinder from the egg, and to focus some of your magic on helping the young drake break free of the shell's confines." His own 'power' was nothing to hers, the Drow a charlatan to the title he held, but he tended to know the right people to assist. "We will approach the center, and begin, if you are ready."

Protection from heat was one thing, though a low wind of sorts whorled its way through the space, a heat blast, which would ruffle clothes and hair even though various magics prevented their burning. Perspiration sheened the half-clothed dark elf despite his ring, so hot was the Fire Room.

Up to her feet, Shae watched as the opened door played havoc with her field of vision. Heat added a shimmer and a twist to the air when it met the cooler temperature of the hallway. Squaring her shoulders with a hand raised to steady her familiar, the witch moved within. The time had come to test the efficacy of her spells of elemental endurance. So far, so good.

The door sealed and Shae was keenly aware of the heat but not incapacitated by it. It was like baking in the noonday sun, but with warmth reflecting from all angles. Her breeze was soon swimming with the hot air and her vision cleared. "I shall do my best." Although his fur hung dense and limp, Fox didn't complain. What cool air Shae had left to her control was focused on the creature upon her shoulders. He, at least, would have some semblance of comfort.

Forward motion was taken towards the edge of the pool. "How do you intend for us to cross?"

"Can you not walk upon a liquid surface? Very well." He dipped down, murmuring an Arcane word sounding like a mixture of Drowish and Draconic, and plunged his right hand into the lava. A rumbling occurred throughout the Fire Room, hot magma roiling as something began to rise, emerge from it. A path of basalt rocks, dotted like stones in a stream, led to the egg.

The egg itself was showing more cracks, and a keening had begun to emerge from it. Spider crossed the basalt path quickly, taking up position on its far side. "I will sing a dragon song I learned in one of the tomes you located for me. Focus your power on the sundering of the shell," he explained past the rippling heat distortions whirling through the room.

Shae allowed him his conclusions about her capabilities without correction, content to observe his solution to the issue of distance and deadly terrain. It wasn't long before Shae joined him on the island that supported the egg's pedestal. Fox's ears swiveled forward to better listen to the hatchling's shell-muffled cries.

"Pardon? Sundering? Granted, I did not research as much as you, but isn't it common wisdom that young things suffer if most of a hatching is done for them?" Hesitating to direct any efforts towards weakening the shell without a bit of clarity on the matter. "I can easily monitor the infant for signs of trouble, but would it also be wiser to have you lay hands to help weaken the shell? If it is to bond to you, that is."

"The song I shall use will help the coaxing, and bonding I intend. During the gestation, for various reasons, I was compelled to use various methods to reinforce the shell. I merely need your help in weakening it. The earth and fire magics are strong, and I am not so skilled a sorcerer as you."

The explanation was uttered softly as she and Fox drew close, the Drow's voice hushed. Soon after, he began a low humming, his wings spreading wide, as he crouched on the egg's far side.

More trembling from the egg, and small cracks began to appear, alongside the subtle, and subtly louder, keening from within its confines.

"Fascinating." She offered simply, with a touch of distracted acknowledgement as he explained the methodology to be used for the endeavor. No more words were put forth from that point. At least, not in the direction of the Drow. Shae and her familiar exchanged a series of meaningful glances before the witch extended a hand to either side of the egg.

From parted lips came a steady whisper of breath, hissing akin to hot steam venting from a pressure source. Heated air convulsed with directed care against the surface of the egg. Currents folded around fingers to pry at cracks in the shell with the patient persistence of the wind that carved through sandstone pillars in the desert.

He had his own, (to him) new magic to handle, so considerations of hers must needs be forced from his mind. His song increased in volume, and though it was slow, painstakingly careful, he enunciated each syllable of the strange linguistic mash well enough. The keening from the egg died down, as if some sentience within was mollified.

Cracks were forming all over, some not a result of Shae's work, as the entire surface of the leathery enclosure spiderwebbed with tiny cracks and rips, the hard surfaces brittle but the inner more supple, like tanned leather. The beginnings of a snout, perhaps the size of a small cat's, could be seen finally poking through one of the egg's upper surfaces.

Within moments a spout of flame poured out from that snout, bathing the three who attended it. Fire Spells and item-wrought enchantments flared up against this first taste of the birthing dragonfire.

Still, the head struggled, unable to make the final break through the thick shell. Spider's song increased in volume, a hand extended toward the egg, seeking but not yet making contact with the miniature reptilian maw.

The egg itself could be felt to struggle slightly against Shae's efforts, though it was more the resistance of a dying struggle than a surge of durability.

Fox's stillness bordered on the unnatural. Years of practice hiding in plain sight lent statue-like permanence to his perch. Trust meant that the canid didn't flinch when the protection spells were tested in the birthing flame. Distractible gold eyes focused on the egg, ears trained forward as if the echo of heartbeat within that enclosure was some manner of music.

Each widening crack was tested with care. Despite Spider's protestations to the contrary, Shae only sought to augment the hatchling's efforts rather than take them over. Enhancements to the egg, where found, carefully unwoven with whispered words of intent. Periods of waiting passed as the creature to be born rested between efforts to break free of confinement in a capsule grown too small.

The break came suddenly, then, a combination of the hatchling's efforts (mostly those) along with Shae's supporting work finally causing a cracking sound, alongside a flash of fire and billow of thick, black smoke. Spider's song, though muffled by the smoke and dulled by the noise of the flash, remained steady, a beacon in the dark obfuscation caused by the sundering of the egg.

That vessel lay in pieces strewn about the basalt dias, when the smoke cleared, to reveal Spider (silent now) crouched near the debris, caressing the head of a very small, perfectly formed red dragon. It would take a parabiologist to be sure, but a glance would reveal this was a true example of that species, not a draconic mutt. It squeaked softly, awed by its surroundings just after birth, a wisp of black smoke rising from its tiny nostrils. It was perhaps the size of a small cat.

Spider produced a strip of some charred thing (meat, well done of course) and presented it to the hatchling, while he looked up to search out Shae and Fox, and make sure they had endured the birth well. "Thank you, both," he whispered. "This is Cinder." Pride, expression of emotion, these were things that did not come easily to Spider - but there was no doubt he was pleased, his black features lacking their typical hard planes and cold emotionlessness.

The smoke cleared past Shae's breeze without difficulty. Spider would find the sylph standing calmly nearby, hands laces together as she watched the Drow interact with his new familiar. Her own companion looked drowsy but self-satisfied; relaxed from his earlier tenseness to his more habitual lounging across her shoulders. When introductions were made, she smiled. A genuine, empathetic reflection of his own subtle wonder. "You're quite welcome. All in good health?"

"It appears so," he answered, still distant and hushed as he watched Cinder take and gobble up the piece of charred meat, then squeak for more. He extended an arm, and whispered, "Doer, lotha maelthra." Though the creature was too young to understand language, it heeded the subtler coincidental call of a mage to his familiar, and began clawing its way up his arm, leaving small talon marks on the black flesh. Spider paid the lacerations no mind as he stood.

"We should not linger long here, of course, as eventually the power of Fire will overcome even our considerable protections." He paused, moving closer to Shae, Cinder now perched on his shoulder. Glittering eyes, little pools of flame, regarded her and Fox, a curious squeak emerging, as Spider continued.

"You will now have full access to this Citadel and its libraries and resources, while I retain possession of this Tower, Shae. And Fox, of course." A slight smile, dipping his head to each of them.

Flames in the room died down, the lava taking on a redder glow, as the portal to the room shifted open with the sound of stone grinding on stone, revealing the hallways by which they had entered.

Granted a closer view of the hatchling, Fox sniffed and leaned forward to greet the creature. Brush tail thumping against Shae's arm. The witch's attention was on her host, and the permission he extended once he had stepped to a conversing range. There a subtle uptick of brows. "My thanks. I will certainly make use of such permission. Will I need to contact you, then, when the mood strikes me to visit? Or is there some other form of access that I am not aware of?"

Even as she put forth questions of clarification, details that could be settled elsewhere, Shae was moving to egress from the chamber. Come from the docks as she had, her attire was at odds with the respect the building deserved, but she walked as if her bearing were proper enough attire. Out, out into more forgiving climes. Though she desired little but to roam as newly permitted, Shae had a need to return to the city.