A Rage of Dragons

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Five: The Best Laid Plans

A Rage of Dragons

The awakening of what appeared to be only a statue was a frightening and fascinating event. The beast looked to be alabaster—a stone that resembled translucent flesh. The Erthe Woman approached it slowly, muttering too low for Drago to hear. She laid a hand on the beast’s flank and stroked it slowly, as one might a belovéd pet. Leaning in close, she whispered in a pointed ear.

Without any visible sign of change, suddenly it was a living thing under her hand. The perception came upon Drago quite suddenly. He strained to identify what was different. There wasn’t enough time.

The drake blinked a glistening all-blue eye and looked right at him. It straightened up and unfurled its wings, snapping them open with a loud percussive noise, before settling on its haunches and turning to look at Drago’s companion.

She turned to the Watr Man and gestured. Feeling a bit nervous, Drago walked to the other dragon, just now awakening, and climbed the back of it. He expected to have a tough time doing so, as even in its crouched pose, the beast’s back was higher than his head. The surface of the animal was warm and subtly textured. He was able to sink his hands into the tiny scales of its hide enough to pull himself up. Footholds were just as secure. Settling astride the drake just where its neck joined its torso, he was comforted to note the flesh gave just enough to reassure him his seat was secure.

Rolling thunder echoed across the roofs for a good twenty seconds as every other dragon nearby awoke and prepared for flight.

The drake in front of him, crouched and leaped into the air. His followed.

With gut-dropping suddenness, the beast launched itself. It spiralled up, wings pumping rapidly, until it was circling the central spire of Azhure’en. The others, uncounted thousands in all, followed until all were circling over the Mother Lodge like a living storm cloud. The noise gave Drago chills. He was at the head of an army and war had been declared.

For the first time, the Watr Man got a good look at the planetoid that the Mother Lodge rested on. He’d expected barren waste, considering the relative lack of light. What he saw was verdure. He mistook it for weird rock formations, as first. The vegetation was variegated purple. A longer look helped him identify them as living plants.

Following the dragons carrying the pair, the rage spiralled down. Drago thought they would be leaving, but they headed inward. Inside the Mother Lodge seemed to be their destination, but they didn’t go in through any of the entrances. Between the five massive, tower flanked ground level doors of Azhure’en were equally gargantuan, round, cone-shaped structures. Seven levels of stained glass, lit from within, gave a faerie-like air to them.

Leading the rage, the Elements plunged under the six mid-level naves and straight to the tallest ring of coloured light—and passed right through.

Looking back, Drago was fascinated to watch dragons by the dozen seemingly appear right where the panes of the windows were. Most of the rotunda was empty, save for a huge sculpture in the center. As the rage spiralled down, he got a better look at it. It was the figure of a man stretched out on a scaffold or some sort. It looked like he had been tortured to death.

Odd.

Now that they were inside, the noise magnified as the snap of wings echoed off walls and fan vaulted ceilings. Drago could feel the noise in his chest. He’d’ve blocked his ears but feared to remove his hands from their tenuous grip on the drake.

The speed of the beasts seemed to increase drastically as the walls of the Mother Lodge whipped by. He saw more dragons ahead and knew many had entered in other spots. Drago quickly lost track of where he was as the dragons wove, swerved, and dove into smaller and smaller halls; each time splitting into smaller streams.

They seemed to be going at a giddy rate, now. Drago and the Erthe Woman’s dragons were two of only five that fit abreast along a windowless corridor. With most of the dragons elsewhere, it was much quieter. It got louder as their stream rejoined one that carried many more drakes. A few moments later the larger stream joined and even bigger one.

Just as he was getting used to the increased racket, they broke out into a titanic chamber. It was five-sided and well over a mile across and almost as high. A circular hole in the ceiling, almost half the width of the room disgorged a torrent of dragons. They were streaming out of the four other entrances to the space as well. The floor of the chamber dropped away into an abyss, like a giant trumpet bell. A sudden dread came over the Watr Man.

Too late for second thoughts.

They led the rage as it spiralled down into the void; the brilliant blue-white of the Line that plumbed the center of the passage constantly on their left. No sound but that of wind.

The Line flickered and went out.

Drago realized he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even be sure he had anything to move. All was blackness and the sound of wind.

Ahead of him, a dark blue-black swirl got closer, slowly turning.

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, September 2026

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Gideon is a freethinker, free expression absolutist, intersectionalist, and a proud child of the Enlightenment. He lives and works on the Pacific Coast.

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