Omega's Rebirth-Chapter 777: Uncommon Runes 2 ()

The haze of darkness slowly faded away and with a quiet grunt, and a pounding ache in his temple, Garron regained consciousness.

As his awareness rose, the memory of the silhouette in the shadows returned instantly. His muscles tensed, his instincts sharpened, that familiar yet rare bloodthirst settled in, like a warm embrace, one he did not much prefer to indulge in.

But there were times...times such as this.

Garron could smell him, the stench of dark magic was heavy in the air. More potent than it had been when it was only the gorge in the ground with the dark miasma circling above it.

His eyes snapped open and Garron lunged. He did not get so far, forced to a halt by a sharp sting around his neck, and then a force pulled him back, his back slamming harshly into a tree.

"Scales!" Garron hissed, he could feel the cuff around his neck, rough edges digging into his flesh, and his hands were restrained in much the same manner.

Cuffs, a very characteristic symbol of the relationship shared between dragons and sorcerers. It was not even a surprise, that they had faced annihilation and were yet to outgrow the urge to domesticate dragons.

Garron was still in the forest, he realised. Not far from where he had been working, a quick scan around his surroundings revealed it could not have been more than a half hour since he lost consciousness.

His tomes and volumes he had been working on were still spread out by his rucksack, though from the look of it, someone or something had gone through his things. They were not out of place, but in a different order than he had left them and that was out of place enough for Garron.

Rage surged through his veins, his blood boiling within him. A dragon lord knew better than to let his guard down, but he had done just that.

Garron’s thoughts faded as his company finally revealed himself. A boy, looking to have barely hit his tenth year emerged from behind a tree, holding a tome in his hand. He was dressed in a weathered tunic, a pair of breeches, brown boots and a coat that had certainly seen better years.

And Garron might have mistaken him for a child who had strayed too far into a toxic forest and gotten lost, but those soulless whites he had for eyes, and pale, sickly skin, was a dead giveaway.

And of course, the fact that he had the knowledge and means to cuff a dragon.

The boy stalked slowly over to Garron, stopping at a reasonable distance. He peered down at Garron, his eyes completely blank. Not that Garron could read them, it was not the usual nature of eyes he was familiar with... at least not in the living.

"This is not a very nice way to meet, wouldn’t you agree?" Garron murmured, his brow quirked. "A polite introduction has never hurt anybody."

"Unless of course, that was your intention. If so... perfectly executed." He added.

"You...are a Dune dragon. I can smell those distasteful stretches of endless white sands on you." He hissed. "You must be well acquainted... with the girl."

"Girl? What girl? And wouldn’t you like to know, what I smell on you?" Garron replied, nose scrunched up in disgust as the stench of dark magic hit him in waves.

He exuded such a potent aura! It had been far too long since Garron had sensed dark magic of this magnitude. It was not common, even in the dark age, only the dark lord’s council could boast of such power.

Garron could also tell, that this sorcerer wasn’t at full strength. He was restless, though he tried to conceal it. It showed in his steps and the way his head twitched ever so slightly.

The sorcerer could only knock him out for a half hour, it was obvious to Garron that his magic was unstable. He had used too much of it, too quickly, giving himself no time to replenish. And he was injured too...

Imagor’s work, Garron guessed. He knew of the battle at Mount Edar, it was definitely impressive. A lesson to anyone who might find interest in abducting dragon offspring.

"It would be a wise course of action to be careful with your words. Don’t you think, Lord Dragon?" The sorcerer taunted, still circling Garron. "That is what you call yourselves now, isn’t it Firedrake?"

"But you see...a title cannot change what your kind truly is." He hissed, a sinister grin on his lips.

He appeared confident, predatory. Garron smirked, he may not have been able to read the sorcerer’s eyes, but his countenance? That, he could read well enough.

And he was not one of those dragon lords that were sensitive about their past history. The reaction the sorcerer hoped to get, he would not be getting it from Garron. History was dark, but there was beauty in that.

"You might want to take your concerns up with My Liege." Garron replied blankly, adjusting his position so he leaned against a tree. The movement had the cuff digging deeper into his flesh and he sighed in annoyance. "I wasn’t really present at that council where titles and all were decided. I do know titles got many of your kind burned to crisp."

"What did I say about watching your words?" The sorcerer snarled, his head twitching slightly.

He was becoming more restless, Garren noted. He must have known Menarx and Kirgan were on his tail. Whatever had led him to take a dragon captive, it was clearly worth the risk of having two King’s guards looming over him.

"If you were going to kill me, you would already have done so." Garron deadpanned. "And if you plan to go around cuffing people, the least you could have done is get me cuffs in my size. This is a bit too tight." He muttered.

"And I don’t particularly favour enchanted steel. Bad memories."

The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed at Garron’s words. Still pacing around, as though studying a strange specimen.

"Right. I would assume these weren’t originally meant for me." Garron surmised. "Menarx? Or Kirgan maybe? They’re on the buffer side, compared to me. Given our... different interests, so I don’t think these will do either."

"Although... I’m not certain how you plan to catch and cuff the King’s guard. They don’t take too kindly to these...kind of meetings." Garron relayed.

"You speak a lot for a dragon. Do you consider yourself one?" The sorcerer scoffed, his tone disdaining.

"I’ve wondered the same myself." Garron admitted. "Here’s an idea. Take off these shift suppressing cuffs, and we can both confirm once again... just to be sure."

"Don’t think I don’t know of you, scribe dragon." The sorcerer hissed. "Two of my disciples died in your flames at Darken falls."

Garron tilted his head to the side, smirking. "It was worth a try. Apologies, I was young and a fire hazard then, literally. I don’t quite recall meeting them...there was nothing left of Darken falls to identify two out of dozens of remains."

The sorcerer hissed, his fists clenched in his wrath.

"You know about runes." The sorcerer stated out of the blue, tilting his head in question.

"Don’t we all?" Garron replied with a question of his own.

"Hybrid runes." The sorcerer adjusted. "That is not common knowledge amongst your kind."

"Well...you haven’t met every one of us yet." Garron murmured,

"What do you know... about hybrid runes?!" The sorcerer hissed, his movement growing more anxious with each passing moment.

"Certainly less than you do. I mean, that is kind of your expertise." Garron pointed out.

"I want an answer, scribe Dragon!" He snarled.

"I’d have to understand the question first to give you that." Garron said, heaving another sigh. "What do I know about runes? Enough to tell you’re up to something malicious here."

"Then you should know, I’m not one to be trifled with." He hissed.

"There is a rune I need...a hybrid rune, long lost after the fall of our great empire." The sorcerer said, his tone chilling.

"I believe you have the answer to your inquiry at ’long lost’. How am I supposed to know anything about your lost runes?" Garron scoffed in disbelief.

"It is a unique rune. I know that it is formed from three most powerful origin runes. Fae...witch...Mer...." The sorcerer continued as though he did not hear Garron’s words.

"Quite a blend." Garron replied simply,

"You do not understand the severity of your present situation, do you?" The sorcerer hissed.

"You will give me the answer I seek! You will tell me how I can cast the lost rune!" He snarled.

"You have all the resources and you clearly know how to decipher Hybrid runes. If you can’t find me the rune, then you can forge it." He asserted.

"Me? Forge a rune?" Garron chuckled quietly at that but his amusement died out when the sorcerer shoved the tome in his face.

"Oh... you’re serious." Garron muttered.