The Ork was quiet for a moment, contemplative. Certainly she had entertained thoughts about the possibility of failure, but she knew she had a reputation for attempting absurdity anyway. It was surely possible that she was now mired with overconfidence, deluded by her own past successes into attempting something which could fail in spectacular fashion.
Her mother had called it a curse of the scales, though never where her children could hear her, and always in affectionate tones. Orkhan were not as connected to dragons as their half or quarter-blooded children, but it was still common wisdom that the color of a person's scales reflected something about their impulses. Opal scales were rare, a gift of her Kytherian grandmother, and they betokened a certain amount of heedlessness. She had done fairly well for herself by taking on plans which defied common sense, but they didn't always work out so well.
"You're right, of course. I don't know that it will work. The silver fire is a tool which the Green Dragons of old had no access to, a divine flame which is almost perfectly conceived to counteract the rainbow poisons which infect this dragon- but I have no way to test the attempt. I do not know exactly how much of the fire must be used. It is a dangerous proposition. You are right that there are grave dangers to my plan."
Imogen sighed. Then she glanced up at Destyn, grinning.
"But! You are wrong about what the dangers are. The risk is not that there will be insufficient sunfire. The risk is that there will be too much. Take a look:"
The witch brought her palms lightly together, and immediately her Pact Shield formed in the air, cattycorner to where she was sitting. The weapon was much as Destyn had seen it years before, a huge, round, metal thing as wide in diameter as he was tall, and burnished to a mirror shine- except that, at some point, it had been blasted to smithereens and reassembled, and was now shot through with hundreds of tiny veins of gold where the wielding had occurred. This act of blatant magic finally distracted Halftail from his scampering and screaming, and he stopped to stare at the floating object.
Imogen reached out and tapped the metallic surface, which rippled as a Window formed on it. Though it was impossible to see any difference with the naked eye, she spent none of her own Aether to do so. Instead, power welled up from a distant source and opened the thin rift in space in accordance with her silent request.
After a moment of cloudy uncertainty as the nothingness of Slipspace warred with Destyn and Imogen's reflections on the crazed surface of the mirror-shield, the image solidified into a scene. There, in miniature, was reflected the top of a mountain peak; a large mountain, at that, though perhaps not the largest Destyn had ever seen. What commanded attention, however, was the surface of the rock, which glowed with some internal light, visible even at noon.
"This is Dawn Peak, the highest point on the island of Ailos." Imogen explained, "It was a holy site to Ysadrin and Ysandre, where it is said the goddess summoned the summer and banished the night when she yet lived. During the Eclipse, it shone so brightly that none of the shadows could move, and the entire island was protected from the creatures."
"I am not a goddess, of course, but even a fraction of that power would suffice to burn a dragon to ash. It would be easy to destroy her here. But I don't want to destroy her, I want to draw just enough power to burn away the infection."
This was all easier said than done, of course. It was not a safe proposition to try to siphon off a fragment of that power without significant refinement. There was, after all, a reason that mages didn't typically try to do their rituals on deposits of unrefined Dragonshards.
But Dawn Peak was a little different. She had, in fact, called upon its power before, in her battle with the Kegumu Rekaka, and found that it was not entirely an unrefined site of dormant power. The few memorial-priests of Ysadrin who remained had drawn that power in drips and drabs for annual rites of blessing and supplication for a thousand years. This differed only in scope and scale.
"I am confident that I could draw the fire needed to do it." Imogen explained, her voice serious, "And I am confident that I can channel it through my sword and carve the madness out of the dragon. But I do not think I can do both of those things at once. So you see, the danger here is not that I will run out of fire and the dragon will awaken and ravage Ailos. The danger is that I will go too far and the dragon and I will both burn to dust."
Her mother had called it a curse of the scales, though never where her children could hear her, and always in affectionate tones. Orkhan were not as connected to dragons as their half or quarter-blooded children, but it was still common wisdom that the color of a person's scales reflected something about their impulses. Opal scales were rare, a gift of her Kytherian grandmother, and they betokened a certain amount of heedlessness. She had done fairly well for herself by taking on plans which defied common sense, but they didn't always work out so well.
"You're right, of course. I don't know that it will work. The silver fire is a tool which the Green Dragons of old had no access to, a divine flame which is almost perfectly conceived to counteract the rainbow poisons which infect this dragon- but I have no way to test the attempt. I do not know exactly how much of the fire must be used. It is a dangerous proposition. You are right that there are grave dangers to my plan."
Imogen sighed. Then she glanced up at Destyn, grinning.
"But! You are wrong about what the dangers are. The risk is not that there will be insufficient sunfire. The risk is that there will be too much. Take a look:"
The witch brought her palms lightly together, and immediately her Pact Shield formed in the air, cattycorner to where she was sitting. The weapon was much as Destyn had seen it years before, a huge, round, metal thing as wide in diameter as he was tall, and burnished to a mirror shine- except that, at some point, it had been blasted to smithereens and reassembled, and was now shot through with hundreds of tiny veins of gold where the wielding had occurred. This act of blatant magic finally distracted Halftail from his scampering and screaming, and he stopped to stare at the floating object.
Imogen reached out and tapped the metallic surface, which rippled as a Window formed on it. Though it was impossible to see any difference with the naked eye, she spent none of her own Aether to do so. Instead, power welled up from a distant source and opened the thin rift in space in accordance with her silent request.
After a moment of cloudy uncertainty as the nothingness of Slipspace warred with Destyn and Imogen's reflections on the crazed surface of the mirror-shield, the image solidified into a scene. There, in miniature, was reflected the top of a mountain peak; a large mountain, at that, though perhaps not the largest Destyn had ever seen. What commanded attention, however, was the surface of the rock, which glowed with some internal light, visible even at noon.
"This is Dawn Peak, the highest point on the island of Ailos." Imogen explained, "It was a holy site to Ysadrin and Ysandre, where it is said the goddess summoned the summer and banished the night when she yet lived. During the Eclipse, it shone so brightly that none of the shadows could move, and the entire island was protected from the creatures."
"I am not a goddess, of course, but even a fraction of that power would suffice to burn a dragon to ash. It would be easy to destroy her here. But I don't want to destroy her, I want to draw just enough power to burn away the infection."
This was all easier said than done, of course. It was not a safe proposition to try to siphon off a fragment of that power without significant refinement. There was, after all, a reason that mages didn't typically try to do their rituals on deposits of unrefined Dragonshards.
But Dawn Peak was a little different. She had, in fact, called upon its power before, in her battle with the Kegumu Rekaka, and found that it was not entirely an unrefined site of dormant power. The few memorial-priests of Ysadrin who remained had drawn that power in drips and drabs for annual rites of blessing and supplication for a thousand years. This differed only in scope and scale.
"I am confident that I could draw the fire needed to do it." Imogen explained, her voice serious, "And I am confident that I can channel it through my sword and carve the madness out of the dragon. But I do not think I can do both of those things at once. So you see, the danger here is not that I will run out of fire and the dragon will awaken and ravage Ailos. The danger is that I will go too far and the dragon and I will both burn to dust."