Kamila shapeshifted her hand, covering it with black Dragon scales, and brought Lith’s to her womb.
“I admit it. I’m terrible at this.” He caressed her stomach, using Invigoration on her and the embryo.
Kamila was more fit and healthy than normal. Her body still carried the positive changes of the previous pregnancy and was already adapting to the current one. As for their future baby boy, it was still too small to be visible unless one knew exactly what and where to look.
The little life force was almost identical to Kamila’s and there still was no sign of the condensation of an independent mana core. Yet after having Elysia and knowing nothing bad could happen, its vision thrilled Lith.
“Your timing could be better, but you are great at this. Trust me.” She said and the Dragon scales confirmed her sincerity.
“By the way, how the heck can you have scales this early? It will take weeks for the baby to develop any kind of feature.”
“I asked Leegaain and the explanation is quite simple.” She shrugged. “To have Dragon scales you need Dragon blood and I do. The baby might be tiny but he still counts. Also, I already know how to trigger the transformation.”
“Can you already shapeshift your whole body?” Lith asked in amazement.
“Nope. At the moment I can only cover my palms or the back of my hands, not both.” Kamila replied. “Have you thought about a good name?”
“Thought, yes. I haven’t found anything decent, though.” Lith said.
“There’s no rush. There’s still-” A blinking rune on Lith’s amulet cut her short and ruined the moment for them “What is it now? The Royals again? The Council? Zekell’s crazy cult?”
“It’s Erghak. I have to take this.” Lith gestured to her for silence. “Also, Zekell’s cult is not crazy. I mean the idea is crazy but Zekell is doing a lot of good for Lutia. His followers may be just magicos, but even minor healing spells do wonders for those who can’t afford a Healer.”
“He’s also making a lot of money and selling merchandise with your face on it.” Kamila scoffed.
“I asked you for silence.”
“Sure, to answer the amulet. Which you didn’t.” She replied.
“Hi, Erghak. Or should I say patriarch Erghak?” Lith pressed the rune, ending the discussion.
“Hi, Lith. And no. Erghak is fine, I’m no patriarch and don’t even want to be one.” The Fire Dragon had taken charge of the Brood after Valtak’s death, but only because there was no Wyrm inside the Fringe who could pull seniority or rank on him.
“I’m calling you because we’ve set a date for the funeral. It will take place tomorrow at sunset in Valtak’s lair. Do you and your sister plan on coming?”
“Of course.” Lith replied. “Can I bring my family with me? They are fond of the old lizard and never got the opportunity to say goodbye.”
“Sure.” Erghak nodded. “Make sure they behave and don’t touch anything of the treasure. Only when a Wyrm dies does his trove get publicly displayed. Stealing even one coin would be taken as a grave offense and have even graver consequences.”
“I’ll make sure everyone gets the message.” Lith said. “By the way, isn’t it a bit sudden? I expected more notice than one day.”
“I don’t know how it works for humans, but Dragons give the family of the deceased only a few days to mourn. There’s only so much time the corpse can be preserved and using Necromancy to prolong the wake would ruin its magical properties.” The Fire Dragon replied.
“The Elders gave Valtak’s family as long as they could but now the funeral can’t be delayed further. If it’s a problem-”
“No problem. Can you give me the coordinates of his lair?” Lith asked.
“Oh, right. I’m sorry.” Erghak sent a rune marking the position of Valtak’s home on the Kingdom’s map. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Is there a dress or form code to follow?” Lith said. “Anything a human should know?”
“No dress code. Just avoid coming naked or dressed in a ridiculous manner. There’s actually a form code, instead. You can come in any shape of your choosing as long as your size doesn’t exceed that of a tall human.
“Valtak is the only one allowed to keep his true form and for one day we keep ourselves small as a sign of respect. It’s the highest honor the Brood can bestow upon one of its fallen members. It reminds everyone the Father of Fire was a giant even among Dragons.
“For one day, his size matches his stature among us.” Erghak took a brief pause to let his words sink before adding:
“Tell your human relatives to behave as if they are attending the funeral of a king and everything will be alright. Even the most arrogant, spoiled, and obnoxious brats of the Brood wouldn’t dare tarnish the event by bullying the weak.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Erghak.” Lith said.
“Until tomorrow, then.”
***
The following day Lith returned to the Kingdom accompanied by Kamila, Tista, Aran, and Leria. He had left Elysia and Valeron home because he couldn’t predict or control their behavior upon seeing the dead Wyrm.
‘I don’t want to think about what they might perceive if they try to use the Dragon scales, especially Elysia with her black chains.’ He thought. ‘They are too young for a funeral and with their memory, it could scar them for a long time.’
“Why is the funeral taking place at sundown, big bro?” Raaz and Elina had tried their best to stop Aran from coming but the boy had been adamant about it. “The sky has the color of blood and it makes me sad.”
“No, lil bro, you got it wrong. Look carefully. Doesn’t the sky’s color remind you of our fireplace? Still warm, but also soft and gentle?” After receiving the invitation to the funeral, Lith had researched Dragon customs to avoid making social faux pas.
Erghak may have told Lith everything he needed not to anger or offend the members of the Brood, but Lith didn’t want to pass for an uncultured rude guest either
Between the tomes in Salaark’s library and a few questions to Leegaain, Lith now knew what to say under all circumstances. He had shared the basics with the others already and answered their questions before reaching Valtak’s lair.
“Sort of.” Aran shrugged. “Looks more like blood to me.”
“Aran, the sun is the greatest flame of Mogar and sundown is the moment when it goes out. Dragons consider the sun the source of all fires, even their own. According to their tradition, funerals take place at sunset so that the sun escorts the spark of the deceased past the horizon and into the afterlife.
“Tonight, the lights in Valtak’s lair will go down for the first time since he built it. They’ll be turned on at the dawn of the new day, when his successor will imprint the arrays and take ownership of Valtak’s inheritance.”
“It sounds cool.” Aram nodded. “Yet it also sounds like theft. Grampa Valtak has just died. How can they take his stuff and split it among themselves already? Seeing his treasure taken away will upset Grampa Valtak!”
