The Conquest of Mytheyr

When Raven woke up, Morgan was still passed out. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she was half hanging off the bed. Raven chuckled at her friend’s undignified appearance. No one who saw Morgan now would believe she was a queen. Most would peg her for a rouge type, one who’d drink with dwarves in dark, dirty taverns and would pick her targets out from a rooftop. And they’d be partially right. Raven shook her head, telling herself to turn off the analytic.

Raven went into the front room of the tent and plopped onto a couch. Her satchel was on the cushion next to her, and she grabbed it and pulled out a book and a pen. She flipped to a dog-eared page and stared reading, scribbling the occasional note in the margin.

“G’mornin, sleepy.” she said to Morgan when she staggered into the room. Morgan collapsed on the couch across from Raven and groaned. Raven scoffed and kept reading.

“So?” Morgan asked after a minute of silence.

“So what?” Raven responded.

Morgan, who was hanging upside down off the couch, her head on the floor and her hair a wild nest, rolled her eyes.

“I am the greatest in my own army when it comes to the first school of the mind. Even you can’t get through all my defenses. Well, you can, but not easily. So how’d he do it?”

“Not with skill, I’ll tell you that.” Raven snorted, folding down the page she was on. “He used the dragon blood from his Blood Iron to fool the Kinship into thinking he was a dragon.”

“That’s fucking possible!?” Morgan exclaimed, turning right side up.

“It got him through your walls.” Raven said in disgust. “Using such a vile thing to pretend you’re one of us… the dragons whose blood he used are rolling over in their graves.”

“I hate it too, Raven.” Morgan said quietly. “But make good use of that hate. I have a bad feeling we’ll need it soon.”

“Why? Did you have a premonition last night?”

“No. You know how rare it is for me to have one, right? It was just my own random crazy dreams tonight, thank god. I just have a feeling. It could just be the silence. Even the Wind is quieter than usual.”

They stayed quiet for a short while, until Morgan got up and cleared her throat.

“I’m going to raid your closet. Even if none of your stuff fits me, there’s gotta be something I can alter.”

“I’d brush my hair if I were you.” Raven called after her as she disappeared back into the bedroom.

“Why do you have a set of my armor?” Morgan asked five minutes later, coming out of the room in black clothing, her hair in a thick braid and a coat make of blue dragonscales draped over her arm.

“Is it just the coat and mask? I think it’s from the time that guy in Zore wanted to assassinate you and we made two of you to fuck with him.” Raven said without looking up.

“Oh yeah. It’s convenient, anyway.” Morgan pulled the coat on, lacing her wings through their holes. She held the mask that went with it to her face and took exaggerated breaths. “Luke, I am your father.”

“That stopped being funny about the hundredth time you did it.” Raven told her.

“Fuck you, I’m hilarious.” Morgan shot back, putting the mask in her pocket. “I’m going to go find my horse. Later.”

Outside the tent, Morgan called Nightshade’s elvish name. The black mare materialized from smoke in front of her, and nuzzled her face.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Morgan said, stroking the horse’s muzzle, “Were you good for Raven? Ach, what am I saying? You like Raven, don’t you? I can’t say the same for Rhys, though. Didn’t you throw him off last time?” Nightshade shook her head, but whether or not it was in response Morgan couldn’t tell. Morgan really wanted to climb on and ride as fast and far as she possibly could, but she knew that was probably too dangerous. Raven had put protection spells out the wazoo on this place, and they were likely the only thing keeping Semele from using his loop hole to find her.

“Honestly.” Morgan muttered to herself. “Using the blood of a dead dragon to take advantage of the Kinship, that’s just… low. Not even I would stoop that far, and I’ve gone pretty far.” She rested her head against Nightshade’s flank. She was content to stand like that awhile, and only looked up when she heard a second horse breathing. “Hey, Bas.” Morgan sighed. The two horses touched noses and whinnied softly.

“So that’s how two Meraxes greet each other.” Raven’s voice carried across the field as she approached them. “I think this is the first time in history that two of them have met.”

“Yeah right.” Morgan snorted. “There are billions of worlds, even more parallel dimensions, and unlimited time. The only thing that’s impossible is for a thing to happen only once.”

“Ok, fine, first time two Meraxes have met when we were around, happy?” Raven caught a glimpse of something behind Morgan and smiled teasingly. “Oh, you will be now.”

“What?” Morgan said, at the same moment Vath said, “Hi.”

“’Sup Vee,” Raven obnoxiously said, “We were just talking about your horse.”

“Uh, okay. What about my horse?” he asked.

“Well, Nightshade here is a Merax too. Other horses bow in a Merax’s presence, but when two Meraxes meet… actually it’s just like two regular horses that like each other.”

“You have a Merax too?” Vath exclaimed, before thinking how stupid that question sounded. Of course she did. How else would she know about them?

“You guys have said Merax so many times it sounds weird now.” Morgan scoffed.

“So have my boys challenged you to the Campfire Song yet? You’ve been hanging out with them often enough. They seem to really like you.” Raven said.

“I don’t know what the Campfire Song is, so I think no.” Vath replied.

“If they do,” Morgan laughed, “don’t take them up on it. It’s a fool’s gamble.”

“…Why?” Vath asked hesitantly.

“Campfire Song is a drinking game.” explained Morgan, “It’s a short song that all playing have to sing. Once you sing a round, everyone has to drink a shot or a pint, depending on what alcohol is at hand. Then you all sing another round, but faster. If you can’t keep up, you lose. Last person singing doesn’t have to pay for the drinks.”

“It’s a fool’s gamble because it takes a ridicules amount of booze to make a Dragonkin tipsy, let alone drunk enough to lose the game.” Raven interrupted.

“…I’ll keep that in mind.” Vath said.

“Well, I gotta go do recon on the palace.” Raven loudly announced, “And I’m sure you guys could use some alone time. See you losers later!” She took to her wings and dashed off, Leaving Morgan and Vath alone with the horses.