The Conduit

    “Just like old times, eh?” Drakko asked.

    “Just like old times...” Zorath agreed.


    No more than two days passed before the Council had gathered. They met at one of the many Council Chambers, this one in northeastern United States where it was easiest for a great majority of the Council to reach. Every Council member was prepared to be on the move at a moment’s notice should the need arise, and it was with great pride that Zorath kept it so.

    The Supreme Chancellor himself marched out of one of the many tunnels into a cavernous hall. The tunnels were dimly lit with hanging lights, but this vast chamber was practically radiating light. Fire filled alcoves all along the walls, filling the room with sweet smoke that drifted up towards vents in the ceiling. A massive stage light hung down from the very center of the roof, illuminating the giant space and its inhabitants.

    Hundreds of dragons mingled in the main Council Chamber, enough to fill the space quite well while leaving plenty of room for hundreds more. Every breed of dragon, and every variation of those breeds walked here. There were too many to count, but the Council was largely made up of two.

    Quads, the giant ‘ancient’ dragons that were upwards of forty feet long, and tens of feet tall, lounged around the carved-stone walls. The largest of them, the golden Guard of the Council, Robinton, was ever vigilant at the entrance to the chamber, his 228 foot long body of gold scales behind him. Bipedals like Zorath marched between the larger dragons, most being the average eight feet tall. Most were armored in full body gear provided by the Council’s own Edge Industries or Draconis Industries International, as per Zorath’s orders, though many went without helmets. Zorath himself had only just returned from the armory, decked in black and red armor plating provided by his own company, Drake Tech.

    None of the natural hubbub died as Zorath entered, and even as he began making his way through the crowd there was no reaction. If one observed the dragons and humans closely, however, one would see that room was hurriedly made for the Supreme Chancellor to pass. The Council respected its leaders, just not so much in an obvious way.

    Zorath sidled through the push and shove of the crowd, hunting for the leaders of the Council that served as a group of advisors and commanders. The Councillors and Head Councillors, or, more particularly, Blake Indigo.

    Glancing around, Zorath didn’t think he was going to find one of the few humans amongst the thickly-packed dragons, especially one as removed as Blake. Zorath sniffed the air, hoping to catch the human’s scent. Sweat and dust mingled with the musty scent of dragons, and the barest hint of pungent humans. He knew his nose wasn’t his strongest sense, but it was still far stronger than that of a human’s. His real strength was in his psychic prowess. This he used to great effect. Blake’s psychic signature, as it were, was near the back corner of the hall, further away from the general crowd. The human was also a magic user, and quite powerful. That made it all the easier for Zorath to find him. He headed in that direction.

    Part of the way to the human, Drakko emerged from the crowd and fell into step besides his Supreme Chancellor without a word. He must have homed in on Zorath’s psychic signature too, and simply followed him. It was just as well. The three of them would have to open the Conduit to the other dimension, something that took an extremely large amount of energy. The three of them working together could open it and maintain the connection without feeling any adverse effects.

    A Conduit was one of the few and difficult methods to create a link between two dimensions. It was a temporary pipeline between the two, and demanded an astonishing amount of energy to remain open. The larger the pipeline, the larger the pull of energy. One could step through on either side, making it a very useful if dangerous method. Often times one would be opened only to have another being from another world come through. This had happened to the Council only once before.

    Space opened up in front of Zorath, and he saw Blake leaning against the wall thirty strides away. The relatively unassuming human was festooned with fetishes about his neck, a couple hidden underneath his heavy trenchcoat. He had a rather sharp face and piercing eyes under slicked back, brown hair. Arms folded across his chest and hands encased in gloves, he looked ill at ease. He hadn’t agreed with Zorath’s decision to take such a risk with the Council, but Zorath had managed to placate his closest friend.

    The plan, should anything go wrong, was to send a small group through, no more than seven, including Zorath. If hostilities waited on the other end, they could Jump back with relative ease. Should that not be the case, then the main portion of the Council was to wait until the team could make their way back by any means necessary. If thirty days pass without contact from Zorath or the others, then they were to be assumed dead and the Council would enact their vengeance on those that had killed them. That last part was more of a given than an actual part of the plan.

    “You ready?” Zorath asked upon his reaching of Blake. Both dragons were far taller than the human, and possibly stronger in more ways than one, but Blake didn’t bat an eye. He’d dealt with dragons and far stranger things besides for longer than several human lifespans.

    “As if I wouldn’t,” Blake replied calmly. He stood straight before the two dragons and brushed off his trenchcoat unnecessarily. The trinkets around his neck clinked together at the slightest motion, reminding Zorath of wind chimes. “What of the rest of the group.”

    “Coming,” Drakko replied. “I told Torkos to grab his things and get the others. He’ll be here shortly.”

    “And you?” Blake asked, pointedly turning to Zorath. “You’re not ready.”

    “No, I’m not,” Zorath admitted, unashamed. His claws were bare, unlike Drakko whose armor covered his sharp talons. Instead of a simple covering, Zorath wore power claws created by his own company. Dabbling in a mixture of magical and technological sciences brought about the idea that a weapon or tool that could use raw magic as a power source. The power claws siphoned Zorath’s energy to create an electromagnetic field around the talons, allowing Zorath to cut through near anything. They were just as dexterous as if they weren’t there, despite the extra bulkiness.

    “I’m having Draconis bring them for me. He was working some of his magic on them.” By the looks Drakko and Blake were giving him, Zorath knew they had taken what he said the wrong way.

    “I don’t mean it literally,” the shadow dragon added. “He was saying something about tweaking the energy link to make the power claws more effective.”

    His explanation mollified the two, and they proceeded to head towards the spot marked as where the Conduit was to be opened. A singular rune was marked on the floor, a rune of warding. It could be described as a square or diamond with all the corners connected, the central point being the focus. A twin rune should have been drawn in the other dimension, their destination. For the rings also doubled as a locus for the Conduit. The rune itself held no power, but the meaning behind it gave the rune significance, and justly proved the Council’s affinity with magic.

    Examining the rune, Zorath couldn’t help but wonder how preparations were going on the other end.


    Felicity waited impatiently, her muzzle twisted in a look of disappointment. The dozen of competent mages ring around the rune fed their energies into creating the Conduit to the dragon’s dimension. Felicity herself could have helped, but she was above the task. It was her job to oversee the removal of the terrorist group, and she wasn’t going to fail the Guardian Line, even if it meant dealing with Drakko. The dragon had insulted her and her entire race, but a swallowed pride was a small price to pay when dealing with international threats.

    She checked about her, making sure all way ready. She didn’t want to disappoint the Council when it arrived.

    They were standing in the parade grounds of a massive, if worn, military base. Barracks and a mess fought for room with the vehicle depot. An airbase was given an entire quarter of the facilities, though it seems there were few aircraft, if any. Weapon emplacements were placed periodically throughout the area.

    The sky was a dreary gray, the result of mass industry. Acid rain and lung cancer was common, but technology had mostly cured the latter.

    Currently, an entire platoon of Guardian Line soldiers were squared up into ranks around her. The parade ground would simplify her work, and would make whoever stepped through the Conduit understand that they weren’t to be trifled with. The handful of mages secreted into their ranks would only enforce the message.

    Felicity smoothed down her suit again in a nervous habit. It was key that she looked formal, and she was lucky that the suit’s black went well with her red fur. Red wasn’t a very common color, not like brown or orange fur. Her fluffy tail and underbelly were white, and her footpads dark. There was a definite feminine beauty about the color scheme.

    A sudden spike in energy brought her attention back to the Conduit. Motes of pure black appeared over the rune, swelling together despite the distortion around them. The Conduit opened wider until it was a gaping hole ten feet across and again as high. Felicity could see the mages straining to keep the portal open, none of them used to sustaining such a large gateway. The demands coming from the other dimension must surely be as enormous, yet the Conduit remained stable... for the moment.

    Time stretched and reality wore thin. The foxes wait with baited breath as ripples formed within the portal. Paws fingered deadly looking weaponry. Felicity herself couldn’t help but prepare her powers. Purple mists congealed around her paws.

    Larger ripples flowed outwards as something poked through the Conduit into the dimension. What started as the tip of a muzzle became a head, followed by the body and tail, yet no wings. The dragon was little more than eight feet tall, taller than most foxes, and more joined it. Seven dragons, completely enclosed in full body armor, surveyed their welcoming. Felicity saw that while their armor was similar, there were subtle differences between them. The one she assumed to be the leader wore black and red armor, while the shortest one to the leader’s left wore white pauldrons on a black base. Surprisingly, the armor accommodated their horns, crests, and other features quite well. Felicity could see where the armor was puckered around the leader’s horns and assumed those were armor seals put in place in the case of an environment without atmosphere.

    The red foxess stepped forward to greet the newcomers. “Welcome those of the Dragon Shadow Council,” she said sweetly. “I assume that you are their leader.”

    The red and black armored dragon held up a claw, stopping her. It turned to the dragon with white, leaving Felicity flustered and annoyed. “Doctor,” came its voice through the helmet, sounding gravelly despite the distortion of the helmet’s speakers. It sounded nothing like Drakko, and the doctor sounded a dozen times worse.

    “Atmosphere is clean. Air pollution is at fifteen percent, nothing we can’t handle. No toxins detected, though there seems to be a large amount of ozone in the air.”

    At an unseen signal, the seals on the doctor’s helmet popped, the visor opening upwards while the seals around its neck released. It pulled the helmet off, and Felicity found herself staring at a set of solid gold eyes, surrounded by dark purple scales. The dragon’s many horns were menacing, and she felt a flash of unease despite the fact that she could detect no trace of mystical powers on the dragon.

    “With ozone being the byproduct of certain magical use, I’m assuming there are a large amount of magic users in the area. Is that correct, miss?”

    Felicity nodded out of habit, then stopped herself. She wasn’t supposed to trust the dragons with anything not pertaining to the removal of the terrorist group, yet she found that they discovered things quickly on their own and were very knowledgable.

    “And are you not a magic user yourself?” the dragon asked.

    Once more, Felicity felt the urge to nod, but stopped herself. She didn’t like how flat the dragons sounded, nor how it knew so much about magic. She suddenly found the dragons distasteful, but as for why, she wasn’t sure.

    “I am,” she replied with a slight tilt of her head. Well aware of the dragons watching her through their visors, she turned back to the red and black dragon.

    “I’d like to speak with your leader,” she said.

    With a hiss of decompressing air, the dragon pulled of his helmet. The others followed suit. As they did so, the dragons hammered their chests, and plates folded in on their backs with a clank. Wide wings unfolded, much to the foxes’ astonishment. They were wider than a tank tank, or transparent, or midnight black. If the idea was to intimidate the inhabitants of this new dimension, it was working.

    Burning coals for eyes watched Felicity’s every move, and she sensed the lead dragon’s near overwhelming psychic presence probe at her mind. Nothing more than a brush that she registered and blocked. In that brief touch, she understood just how simple of a matter it would be for the dragons to overwhelm her. She wondered if that was the point of the probe.

    “I am Zorath Flamecloak, Supreme Chancellor of the Dragon Shadow Council.”

    The dragon acted as if nothing had happened between them in the half-second the probe took. She could play that game.

    “Felicity Darkpaw, emissary of the Guardian Line.”

    Zorath inclined his muzzle out of respect. He had no weapons besides the dangerous looking gauntlets he wore. They appeared dormant, and she detected no energies within them, but the rest of the group were heavily armed. Many carried huge, heavy caliber ballistic rifles, one held only a sidearm, and two had no weapons at all. She guessed those were other mages. One to her left she knew, and Drakko winked upon meeting her eyes. Felicity ignored him.

    “Where’s the rest of you?” Felicity asked. She couldn’t believe that only seven dragons out of an entire Council were going to remove the well-prepared terrorist group. Zorath grinned a fang-filled grin, like he knew what she was thinking.

    “They’re waiting for the signal,” Zorath replied cryptically. He spun without waiting for a reply to face the Conduit.

    Felicity was still wondering what the dragon was doing when her psychic senses were battered with a tsunami of magic. Zorath was releasing more energy than a hundred mages could bring to bear, swelling the portal to a hundred times its size, and therefore a hundred times the energy needed. She sensed Drakko and the other mage feeding the portal through Zorath, creating a network of power invisible to anyone’s eyes not attuned to magic. The entire portal began rippling as something truly immense began to push through.

    Klaxons blared suddenly, and Zorath stopped feeding the portal, shrinking it back down again to half its original size. Several mages had fainted trying to hold the portal open, and could not support it. Its surface quickly stopped rippling.

    “What’s going on,” Zorath growled, aggressively approaching the foxess. Black balefires flickered on his gauntlets, and Felicity could feel their presence along with the coppery scent of ozone. The clawlike gauntlets would no more be stopped by a telekinetic barrier than by a sheet of metal.

    “I- I’m not sure,” Felicity replied hurriedly, backing away from the dragon.

    “I swear that if you’ve turned on us, I’ll-”

    “No, it’s nothing like that!” Felicity stuttered.

    A claw stopped Zorath in his tracks, and Drakko held the Supreme Chancellor still. “Hold on there,” Drakko said, keeping his tone moderate. “I don’t think it’s us they're worried about.”

    It certainly looked that way. Hundreds of soldiers were getting under cover and making for gun emplacements. Felicity could see what looked like flak cannons rotating into position. The dragons saw this to, and looked to Zorath for their orders. The klaxon still blared in the background.

    “I’m going to ask you again, what’s going on?” Zorath asked. He sounded calmer, but his body language said otherwise. He looked ready to tear the foxess apart should she give him a reason to.

    “That... that’s the security alarm. We’re under attack,” Felicity said.

    "By what?”

    "Shrieker!” someone shouted before a craft of some sort screamed overhead, the gun ports on its front blazing. Glowing lines of plasma stitched towards the dragons. They hit the deck, and Felicity felt Zorath barrel into her, fearing the dragon would be the death of her in the confusion. Her throat closed up, and she closed her eyes.

    Nothing happened.

    She was aware of Zorath on top of her, and realized the Shrieker had passed. With a grunt, the dragon got off her and stood up. She slowly followed suit.

    The plasma had torn through a couple mages, leaving bloody paste, but no undue damage seemed to be done. The Shrieker had been aiming for the portal, or more specifically the mages supporting it. What was left of the Conduit blinked out of existence.

    The dragons were caught in the crossfire, but she didn’t see any that were hit. That is, until Felicity looked to Zorath. There was a scorch mark the size of her fist and as deep as a thumb on his back, just between his wings. The wing joints and membranes were burned from the near miss. A shot meant for her.

    Felicity wanted to thank the dragon, but he was already moving away, ording his dragons to prepare for the second pass.

    The flak cannons were wheeling about. The Shrieker was out there. They could all hear its engines scream as the ship cut the air. It was an oblong shape with two prongs curving forwards, and it was coming back.

    As the craft entered firing range, the flak cannons opened up. Instead of explosive shells, they fired a host of lasers, similar to a scattershot. The red beams struck the ship multiple times, but only succeeded burning coin sized holes in the strange plating. Its armor was proof to the foxes weaponry. It was a good thing Zorath was carrying something else.

    Weapons spitting death, the Shrieker struck two Laslfaks and left them smouldering piles of junk. Metal ran liquid. The crews screamed as they were superheated into red mist.

    Zorath was roaring, “Tairivius, get that rifle up here!”

    A giant dragon with blue detailing in his armor unlimbered a sniper rifle as tall as Felicity and jammed the stock to his shoulder. He tracked the Shrieker a moment before the gun boomed. With unerring accuracy, a bullet meant to kill something far larger than the fighter hammered into the craft with a crack. A massive pockmark was let in the hull, but no appreciable damage was done.

    Zorath growled under his breath. He rounded on Felicity. “Don’t you have any explosives? Rockets? Flak?”

    “None,” Felicity said, wide-eyed. “Nothing so crude has been built for decades.”

    “You gotta be bloody kidding me.” Zorath glared at the sky. He had to think fast before the Shrieker returned. “What do you know of that ship?”

    Felicity looked taken back. “It’s a heavy fighter. Slow, but durable. They stopped production because the new fighters ran circles around it. It should be in a museum.”

    “Do we have any fighters?” Zorath heard the Shrieker swoop by again, this time followed by explosions. What looked like the mess went up as a gas line exploded.

    “None here. When we found that the terrorists couldn’t be attacked by the air, all our fighters were moved elsewhere. They’re not supposed to have aircraft of any kind.”

    “I wonder why,” Zorath muttered. It looked like they were to deal with the problem themselves. That was fine, he had a trick up his sleeve. “Drakko!”

    “Sir?”

    “Take that bastard down by any means necessary.”

    The red dragon nodded and took flight, aiming towards the barracks. It was the closest building and would give him a height advantage for what he had in mind.

    “The rest of you, on me. Keep its attention on us while Drakko gets into position.”

    Felicity watched as the dragons unholstered their weapons and prepared to face the Shrieker. The doctor lifted a much smaller version of Tairivius’s monster rifle, and two other dragons held a snub-nosed pistol and a long-bore rifle. Pure darkness surrounded the third mage’s claws.

    When the Shrieker returned, a large portion of its hull scorched by the Lasflaks, the dragons were ready. Tairivius roared with his rifle, and the Shrieker’s plating sparked as multiple solid rounds spranged off. Its gun ports sprayed plasma at the dragons who dove aside. Zorath and the other mage released their power as one and froze one of the engines. The ship dipped slightly and slowed as an engine went out, but it remained aloft though its speed reduced considerably.

    “Drakko, when that thing comes around again, you hit it with everything you got!” Zorath growled into his throat mic.

    No reply was forthcoming. Zorath didn’t need one. He trusted the dragon’s tactical sense, and his ability to get things done. Adding to that, his magical ability was greater than most.

    Howling like a banshee, the Shrieker streaked overhead. The dragons unloaded shot after shot into the craft to no effect. It wheeled towards them, its guns glowing as it prepared to fire. They were already moving out of the way when a searing beam, hotter than the sun, tore straight through the craft. It started falling before fire blossomed in the hole cut clean through it, and the ship exploded.

    The fighter’s corpse slammed into the ground and plowed a fifty foot long trench until it came to a stop. Fizzing shards of metal rained down, burning Felicity’s fur. She quickly brushed it off and headed towards the dragons. They stood in the burning rain, standing almost perilously close to the burning fighter. The fires licked at their scales. It looked like the flames were imploring them to come closer. Felicity dismissed the thought with a shudder.

    The fox stopped well away from the burning Shrieker and called to Zorath.

    “I am in your debt!”

    The Supreme Chancellor glanced at the fox and nodded. He signalled to his entourage to follow and joined Felicity.

    “Think nothing of it,” he grated.

    The dragon was glaring at her, his eyes glowing slightly. Felicity wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her momentary weakness when he saved her live, but she was determined not to let it happen again. He hadn’t mentioned it, nor acted any differently than before, leaving her worried. Either he hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care. Whatever his reasoning, she still had work to do, and now it was personal.

    “Now you know why these terrorists should be eradicated?” Felicity asked. She was unable to keep the venom from her voice.

    Zorath grinned, showing fangs that Felicity suspected of actually holding venom. “Aye, I see. They shot me in the back, and I plan on returning the favor tenfold.” Zorath moved towards where the portal had been.

    The base was picking itself back up. Foxes ran to put out the fires and tend to the wounded. Few mages survived and less were conscious to help the dragon with the Conduitt. It was all down to them again.

    Felicity dutifully followed the Supreme Chancellor, her suit ash and dirt stained, and her fur suffering several black patches. She was smoothing out her suit when Zorath shouted something over his shoulder.

    “There’s one thing you need to learn, miss. You can hit us like a storm, but you’re damn well sure we’ll hit you back. Always.”