The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon - Chapter 38

Chapter 38: The Princess And The Tiger








Chapter 38: The Princess And The Tiger

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"Be wary of your next opponent."

Antaria paused on her way to the arena and looked back at Doomwing's construct. "Oh?"

"The report that your uncle compiled underestimates him." The construct's eyes narrowed. "The tiger-man has never used his full strength where others can see it. However, he cannot hide from these eyes of mine. The power I see within him is beyond what he has shown so far."

"I'll keep that in mind." The princess grinned. "He's one of the borderline ones, right?"

She was referring to whether or not they should recruit him. Based on what her uncle had learned of the tiger-man, he might make a good recruit. However, he had also shown a reluctance to follow authority, and the report had spoken of a simmering anger that was well hidden beneath a veneer of civility.

"Yes."

"What do you think?" Antaria asked. Even if Doomwing had only laid eyes on him recently, she had no doubt that his judgement would be ruthless but accurate. "Should I recruit him?"

The construct bared its teeth. "You have progressed far enough in your training that you need not seek my counsel for every small decision. If you wish to rule in my name, then you will need to be able to make decisions on your own. Face him and take his measure in battle. Whether he is suitable to join us or not, he is a tiger-man. Battle will show him for who he truly is."

"Have you known a lot of tiger-men?" Antaria asked. Doomwing's past was mysterious despite the sheer length of it. Yet every now and then, he would reveal parts of it to her. She treasured each piece of information, knowing that he would not have said anything at all unless he thought her worthy of knowing.

"I have met many tiger-men over the years, but I would say that I have truly known only one." The construct looked past her to the end of the tunnel that led into the arena. "Tell me, what is the nature of absolute victory?"

"Philosophy?" Antaria grinned. During her training, Doomwing had often spoken of philosophical matters. Apparently, there were styles of combat that required particular mindsets and attitudes to be fully effective. Furthermore, progressing further in power would require not only greater strength but also greater wisdom. After all, her soul was the source of her magic and power, and a soul could grow as much through enlightenment as it could through martial prowess. "That's a good question hmm I guess I'd say when the enemy can no longer fight."

"A very draconic answer," the construct said. "I had a friend, a tiger-man. His name was Brother Tiger, and he was a monk. When he asked me that question, I told him that absolute victory lay in the complete and utter destruction of the enemy and their ability to fight. He told me that he would have agreed with that answer in his youth, but that he had come to think differently in his old age."

"Oh?" Antaria grinned. "You were friends with a monk?"

"I was," the construct said. "And although we rarely agreed on philosophical matters, I found his views intriguing. When a fool disagrees with you, it is easy to dismiss their opinion. Brother Tiger was no fool. When he disagreed, I wished to know why, even if I rarely changed my mind."

"He must have been quite a monk." Antaria could hear the crowd. The whole tunnel shook with the force of their anticipation as they clapped, stomped, and called her name. "What was his answer?"

"True victory is not the complete and utter destruction of the enemy and their ability to fight. Instead, it is the complete and utter destruction of the enemy's desire to fight. It is the conversion of an enemy into an ally and a friend."

Antaria's eyes widened. "The destruction of their desire to fight?" She smiled. "That would be nice, but it seems quite nave."

"Oh, he acknowledged that doing so was not always possible. There are foes that must be destroyed, whether that means killing them, throwing them in prison, or merely driving them away. But there are others, those who can become more than enemies, if only we possess the desire and means to persuade them." The construct chuckled. "I will not say that I agreed. I am a primordial dragon. The foes that I have considered true enemies were not the kind that could be made into friends and allies. They were the kind that had to die. But you are not a primordial dragon, and your foes are not the same as mine."

"So you think we should recruit him?" Antaria asked, eyes twinkling at the expression of mild aggravation on the construct's face.

"That is for you to decide and even if you wish to recruit him, do you really think he will agree just because you ask? He is a tiger-man. Even if you beat him, he will not necessarily agree to join us. Instead, you must give him a reason, and you must convince him in a way that even his pride and past cannot deny."

"Well, I'll just have to do my best then." Antaria turned. "Wish me luck."

"Luck? Let your skills decide the outcome of battle. Still if fortune should come into play, may it favour you in its dealings."

Antaria strode down the tunnel and then out into the arena. A wave of noise washed over her, so loud that it was an almost physical force that threatened to drive her back into the tunnel. This was the last fight of the tournament, and she had left a trail of devastation in her wake. Her uncle's enemies were in disarray, and she had received no small number of invitations to talk from nobles who were suddenly eager to curry favour, if only so she wasn't tempted to add them to her list of people who needed to be killed or maimed.

Her uncle had found the whole thing hilarious, and he had taken full advantage. He was the perfect foil to her more belligerent persona. They could deal with her, the princess who regularly turned her enemies into bloody pulps, or they could deal with a king who wanted nothing more than obedience and who was even willing to share the profits of success if they would just fall into line.

The choice was obvious.

Her opponent was already waiting for her at the centre of the area. She had seen beast-people before. Few of them lived in the kingdom, but it wasn't unusual for them to pass through, working as mercenaries or adventurers for a time before moving on. She had no grievances against beast-people herself, but there were many superstitions about them that made it difficult for them to live in the kingdom permanently.

Many beast-people were wanderers, and it was often said that they wandered because they had been driven from their homes long ago for committing wicked deeds. Other stories claimed they had brought a great evil into the world although what that evil was or how they had brought it into the world were seldom mentioned. The truth of such tales, it seemed, had been lost to the mists of time. Other stories spoke of their unnatural beliefs, and their worshipping of evil powers. And, of course, their appearances did not help either.

Although the kitsune were said to be people of great beauty, other beast-people were not so fortunate. Bull-men towered over humans, and their horns, muscular frames, and bovine features granted them an air of menace in the eyes of many. Tiger-men had the heads of tiger, complete with big, sharp teeth. They also had retractable claws upon their hands and feet, which could easily tear a man limb from limb.

She had asked Doomwing if there was any truth to the tales, and the dragon had simply replied that such stories existed for a reason. However, the beast-people who had been responsible for the development of such tales were long dead. Only their descendants remained, and even they could no longer remember why those stories were told. He had no reason to dislike them unless they attempted to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors.

The thought of it saddened Antaria. To be outcasts for crimes they could not even remember? There was no fairness in that. Perhaps that was why the deeds of her great ancestor often made her so uneasy. People spoke of Elerion in hushed whispers, a near-mythological figure whose blood flowed through her veins. It was his blood that allowed her family to sit upon the throne, and it had been his blood that her father had used to justify his mad schemes. After all, if their ancestor had once been High King, why shouldn't he be the same?

Pathetic.

It was pathetic.

Doomwing had spoken of Elerion, and the man was worthy of the high esteem in which people held him. However, Antaria despised the idea that she was only worth anything because of the blood they shared. No. If she was to be judged, then let her ancestry be left behind. Let it be her own deeds, her own struggles, toils, and victories that defined her!

Her opponent was the largest tiger-man she had ever seen. He was roughly seven feet tall, and thick cords of powerful muscle rippled beneath vibrant orange fur striped with black. He wore a faded red tunic with grey trousers, and a weapon that she had been told was called a 'dao' hung at his side. The weapon was well maintained, but it also showed signs of long and vigorous use. He paid no heed to the referee as she approached. Instead, his gaze followed her every step of the way, keen and piercing. She smiled. He was taking her measure, just as she was taking his.

"Princess." He brought his hands together in a salute, one hand a fist and the other an open palm, and then bowed. According to Doomwing, it was an ancient sign of respect between warriors, one that originated Ages ago. "It is an honour to face you."

She returned the gesture, much to his surprise. "Your name is Xiang, isn't it?" He nodded. "Then I look forward to facing you."

The referee went over the rules briefly, but neither of them paid the man much heed. They had fought enough already to know the rules by heart. As the referee moved out of the way, they both drew their weapons.

From what Antaria had observed from his previous fights, the dao was similar to a sabre. It could cut and thrust, but it seemed to be most effective when used for chopping and slashing attacks. Given the immense speed and strength that Xiang had demonstrated throughout the tournament, facing the weapon head on seemed like a foolish idea even for her especially given her own weapon.

The elves of the Third Age had prized precision over brute force in their fighting, and the elvish rapier style that Antaria had been learning to use was a prime example of that. The speed and range of a thrust allowed her to strike to deadly effect, often without giving the opponent a chance to truly respond. She had been surprised and inordinately pleased to discover that the wooden sword that Daphne had given her could change its shape, meaning there was no need for her to use a different weapon. Apparently, that was something most dryad-gifted weapons could do although it had taken her a while to figure out how to do it, even with Doomwing's advice.

According to Doomwing, Alenna Skyseeker had favoured the elvish rapier due to her style's emphasis on mobility. Yes, blocking a blow from a much heavier weapon would be difficult, but the whole point was to avoid having to block in the first place. Speed, mobility, and anticipation should make it possible to interrupt the opponent's strike or to evade and then counter attack.

That style of fighting went against Antaria's desire to simply crush her opponents, but she had found herself growing more and more appreciative of it. Was it simply her magical affinity biasing her opinions, or was it simply a matter of gaining more experience? Yes, crushing people could be fun especially when she knew they were trying to assassinate her but there was something so incredibly enjoyable about reading her opponents and the flow of battle, dodging attack after attack and then replying with pinpoint precision that left her enemies defeated with a single, precisely aimed attack.

And what a rapier might lack in raw destructive power could easily be remedied with wind magic. Doomwing had demonstrated several such techniques that could turn even a clumsy strike into something capable of piecing or slicing through solid steel. That was another reason he wanted her to grow adept in a style that emphasised evasion and anticipation. At the highest level, humans simply weren't durable enough to shrug off attacks from creatures like dragons, hydras, and other powerful monsters. Dodging and then exploiting the openings that would appear would be key to defeat stronger opponents in the future.

To his credit, Xiang did not rush in immediately. One of her previous opponents had thought to overwhelm her before she could put her weapon's greater reach to work. He'd earned himself a hole in his heart for his trouble and had died before he could truly understand what had happened not that she particularly cared. He had been another assassin, albeit not the most dangerous she had encountered. How he'd even gotten that far in the tournament was a bit of a mystery to her.

"You're not going to attack?" Antaria asked.

"Not recklessly," Xiang replied. "I have seen your previous bouts. Some might call your blade flimsy, but I know better."

"In that case, why don't I go first?"

She took a single step forward and then flowed into a thrust. His eyes widened momentarily, and then he retreated, moving just out of range. She followed with another thrust and then another and another, each delivered with the precision and perfect technique that only dragon-related suffering could provide. Doomwing had no need for a sword, but he had seen the finest swordmen of the elves. She would become that good or suffer horribly trying.

So far, it had been mostly horrible suffering, but the improvement was undeniable.

Each time, Xiang gave ground, not simply moving backward but also to the side to see if her footwork could keep up. She bit back a smile. She'd seen too many duellists make mistakes since it was all too easy to get caught up in moving backward and forward without taking lateral movement into account. Doomwing had disabused her of that notion by dodging to the side and then tackling her with his construct.

Broken ribs and full-body bruising were wonderful motivators for improvement.

They broke apart for a moment, and she could tell the exact moment that Xiang came to his decision. He could not continue to give ground. If all he did was retreat, then he would lose. At some point, she would hit him, and she was accurate enough to end the fight in a single blow. He had to attack.

Of course, attacking would not be easy. Even with his height advantage and the length of his weapon, a rapier was not an easy weapon to get past. But he would have to if he wanted to win. His hands tightened on his dao, and his weight shifted onto the balls of his feet. His magic stirred in earnest, and her eyes widened.

He had roughly the same amount of magic as her, and unlike the crude, roughly controlled magic in most of her opponents, his had been honed considerably. It wasn't sharpened in the same way as hers. Indeed, there was a certain roughness to it that suggested he was self-taught rather than trained by someone like Doomwing. However, there was no mistaking the threat he posed.

Her own magic shifted in response, and she readied herself. It was time to see what he was capable of.

He lunged forward, far, far faster than he'd moved before. In the instant that she moved to strike, he sprang to the side in a movement of pure feline grace and then brought his dao down in a tremendous overhand blow. She discarded the idea of blocking immediately. Even Daphne's sword might not be able to withstand the sheer force behind the attack.

Instead, she jerked back, just enough to avoid the attack. The dao smashed into the ground, and the force of the blow cratered the ground and tossed her back. Yep. Dodging had definitely been a good idea. She couldn't be sure, but she was pretty confident that Xiang had used a basic rune to enhance that blow.

Had he been taught the rune? No. He wouldn't be working as mercenary if he had someone capable of teaching runes backing him. He must have uncovered it himself, which spoke volumes of his talent. No wonder he was popular as a mercenary. He could probably do the work of dozens of men himself.

And yet that single blow had revealed something to her, something that made her brows furrow.

She decided to test her idea.

She moved forward again, light and easy on her feet, probing with swift, sharp attacks while just barely dodging his counter attacks. Each of his blows could have ended the fight the sheer force he could generate was insane and his reactions, speed, and agility were all outstanding. In fact, he might even be more agile than her, which was saying something, considering all the training she'd gone through. But there was something off about the way he fought

She backed away and then lowered her sword. He stared at her in puzzlement.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "You cannot be surrendering."

"I'm not surrendering. I just noticed that you're really not all that good with a sword."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. You're extremely fast and agile, and you're easily the strongest opponent I've faced so far. I'd be in a lot of trouble if even one of those swings of yours managed to hit me. But your technique I won't say it's bad, but it's very simple so simple that I'm convinced you don't actually favour the sword in battle."

Xiang's expression grew sober. "Princess, do you know why I use the sword?"

"No."

"I am a tiger-man. I have my claws and my teeth. But if I use them in battle, I am called a beast and looked down upon as a savage." He glanced down at the dao in his hand. "The sword is a warrior's weapon, or so I have been told. If I wish to work, then I must follow the ways of those I work for."

"I see." She had suspected it might be something like that. She glanced up at the royal box where her uncle and Doomwing's construct were watching, along with a blonde woman she didn't recognise. A flick of her wrist sent her sword flying up toward them where the construct caught it with magic. "In that case, why don't you show me what you can really do? On my name and honour, I would prefer to face you at your best."

Xiang stared at her for a long moment. "You are my better with a blade. You would win if we continued to fight with weapons. Barehanded, I am much more formidable."

She grinned. "There is no point in winning if I'm not facing my opponent at their best." She nodded at the referee. "Give your weapon to the referee. He can hang onto it for you. I'm sure he'll take good care of it." She smiled. "I don't care if you use your claws or your teeth. You are a tiger-man, and those are the weapons of your people. Getting upset about you using them would be like getting upset at a dragon for using its flame." She took up her stance and raised her fists. "Show me what you can do."

"Yes." The woman chuckled. "Magic comes from the soul, and it is the soul that perceives the magic of others. Do you think your soul needs eyes to see? No. Unlike her eyes which can be more easily fooled, Antaria's magical senses are incredibly keen and far harder to fool. She also has an affinity for the wind. She can almost certainly sense the air displaced by his attacks."

Doomwing's construct chuckled. "And she claimed my blindfolded training was useless."

"Your blindfolded training is an excuse for you to pelt people with low-level magic while they try to dodge."

"Yes but it is also useful." The construct turned back to the battle. "Now watch watch as your niece proves she is worthy of the effort I have put into training her."

Xiang could not understand it.

How was he losing?

He had struck so many blows at first. None had enough to end the fight, but he had been getting closer and closer. No. Ice ran through his veins. All the wounds he'd landed except for that one blow to her side all had been to her arms and legs. She hadn't been able to dodge completely, so she had chosen to take the blows on her arms and legs while protecting her torso all so she could buy herself more time to understand his technique.

He'd underestimated her. Somehow, despite everything, he'd underestimated her.

He had to end this now. That punch of hers could have finished things if it had landed. He could not afford to give her any more time to understand his technique. It was the work of years the work of his lifetime and yet she had found a way to counter it. Who knew what she would be capable of if he gave her more time?

He darted forward again, magic surging in rhythmic bursts as he accelerated far beyond his normal limits, little more than a blur to regular people as he moved back and forth, searching, probing, hoping for an opening. The thin blades of water around his claws pulsed in time with his own racing heart, their lengths shifting back and forth until he finally committed to a strike

She moved.

And his slash went wide.

She moved again.

His kick missed.

She moved yet again.

And his leaping strike went over her head.

And then her fist hit him in the stomach.

He went flying back and struck the wall of the arena with terrible force. For a moment, he passed out, but the sudden shock of tumbling off the wall and into the ground brought him back to consciousness. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the ache in his body and the blood in his mouth.

He had been hurt before. Indeed, he had been hurt many times when he was younger and had yet to fully embrace his gifts. The world always became simpler at times like this. If he won the tournament, he could get his people the home they needed to survive. His children would not have to suffer as he had.

He liked the princess. He genuinely respected her. But he would not let her stand in his way. He would not let anyone stand in his way. He would win. He had to.

He roared and reached deeper into the wellspring of power within him. He could not remember the last time he had been pushed this hard, and the combination of fear, excitement, and desperation thrilled him. Was this his tiger-man blood coming to the fore? Perhaps, for his grandfather had once told him that they were the descendants of a mighty kingdom of tiger-people that had been destroyed long ago after they sought to conquer their neighbours.

That blood burned in his veins and drove him to draw on more and more magic until it felt as though his whole body was on fire. If she had learned to anticipate his movements somehow, then he simply needed to be faster. If she could dodge his attacks, then he simply needed to make his water blades longer. And if that still wasn't enough, then he would simply have to go further, to turn the very air around him into a storm of blades!

"How interesting" The blonde woman chuckled as Enarion fought the urge to scream. The whole crowd was on its feet, roaring almost as loud as the tiger-man as his magic grew even stronger. The blades of water were visible now, not just around his claws, but even in the air around him, a maelstrom of liquid death that seemed impossible to dodge. "He's improving even as the fight goes on."

"His desperation has granted him strength, but" Doomwing's construct was smiling smugly. "It is over. He has lost."

"How can you say that?" Enarion asked. "How is Antaria supposed to dodge all of that?"

"Just watch." The construct gave a rumble of amusement. "Your niece has spent all of her time since leaving this kingdom training with me. That training has allowed her to improve at an incredible rate, but training against someone like me presents certain problems too."

"Deep down inside," the blonde woman said. "Antaria knows that she cannot beat Doomwing's construct as she is now. Her soul senses that too."

"My power is so far beyond hers that there is no hope of victory. Constantly facing a superior opponent can help someone grow, but it can also be limiting. There are times when the only way to improve is to face an opponent of similar strength, to be pushed to the edge and then grasp at the ever-dimming chance of victory."

Antaria saw, but not with her eyes. All those days of being pelted by Doomwing and the animals, all those times she'd cursed the dragon and sworn vengeance against the raccoons and squirrels, they had not been in vain. Magic was everywhere and in everything. She had been forced to sense it in order to survive. Combined with her increasingly good grasp of the air around her, she had finally found a way to sense what Xiang was doing.

She could dodge, and she could fight back.

But he was still faster than her, and now he was attacking with not just the blades around his claws but countless more formed in the air around him.

Before this fight, she would have lost. She was certain of that. But he had also shown her the answer to her problem.

She had been working on enhancing her body with magic, and she was working to master all of the many ways that magic could be channelled through her body to increase her speed. Using everything she'd learned and copying what she could decipher of how he enhanced his own movements, she was certain she could match his speed.

But even matching it would not be enough. She needed to be faster, and she knew how.

The rune of floating.

Why did she float when she used it? Because she was weightless. And something that was weightless could be moved very easily indeed. Moreover, she had seen how Xiang extended his claws with blades of water. Why couldn't she do something similar and wrap her limbs in wind? She didn't have the control to unleash cutting winds to overwhelm his water blades, not yet, but she could push herself and when combined with the rune of floating.

Limitless freedom.

That was the name Alenna Skyseeker had given to her style a style that was designed for aerial combat, a style that had impressed even a dragon.

Limitless freedom.

The ability to move unhindered.

Xiang closed in, blades of water flashing, and Antaria smiled.

And then she moved, her feet not quite touching the ground, truly free for the first time in her life.

Xiang could not believe it. How could the princess dodge all of his attacks? She had gone beyond matching his speed. She had surpassed him, and she was moving in ways that should be impossible, almost as if as if she was no longer bound by gravity. He jerked back, and his gaze snapped to the ground.

When using magic to enhance their speed, it was common for people to damage their ground due to the sheer force and weight of their footsteps. For much of their fight, that had been true for both him and the princess. And yet now, in their most recent exchange, there was only a single set of footprints.

The wind magic he'd felt she was using it to enhance her movements. And if she had a way of making herself weightless it wouldn't be quite the same as flight, but it would allow her to move in ways that no normal person could. Indeed, by using her wind magic on herself, she could simply push herself out of the way of his attacks despite completely lacking the leverage to do so using her limbs.

A sense of despair swept over him. He had already used up most of his magic, but the fight was slipping further and further out of reach. He had to risk it all then and put everything he had left into a final attack in the hopes that he could win. He roared, as much to raise his own spirits as to threaten his opponent. The blades of water around him stilled and turned into countless needles that drifted in the air.

"This will be my final attack," he rumbled. "I call it the Conquering Rain."

The princess nodded. "I like that name. I guess it's a contest of speed, right? Can I get past all those attacks and hit you, or will you be able to bury me beneath them."

"Yes. That is how the fight will be decided."

"So let me ask you a question." The princess grinned. "Which is faster? The rain, or the wind that carries it?"

"Let us find out."

He launched the needles and braced himself. The princess moved and then

Darkness.

Xiang woke up and found himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. "I lost" he murmured. He felt tears prickle at the edges of his eyes. He had lost the tournament, and with it the opportunity to save his people.

"What were you fighting for?"

He gasped and turned to the side to find the princess sitting on a chair beside his bed. She was holding a raccoon in her arms, and the animal was doing its best to glare him to death. "Oh, be nice, Filch. The whole point of the tournament was to fight. You can't blame him for fighting me." She chuckled. "Sorry about, Filch. He's a friend of mine, and he can be surprisingly protective when he's not being obnoxious."

"I I see." Xiang sat up. His wounds had been healed, and were the memories not so fresh, it would have been easy to think he'd imagined the entire battle. "You asked about why I was fighting? I'll tell you. I think I think you would understand."

And so he spoke, telling her of what had transpired. When he was done, the princess sighed.

"I don't think you want my pity or my sympathy. There's not much either can do for you. But you should know that even if you won, your plan wouldn't have worked."

"What?" he growled.

"My uncle is a good man, but his reign has only just begun. He has many opponents he must deal with before his rule is truly secure. Allowing tiger-people from a foreign land to purchase land and set up their own settlement that would provide his opponents with a cudgel to use against him. It would never have been allowed."

Xiang growled. "How long must my people continue to pay for a sin that we cannot even remember? Are we cursed to wander, never knowing a proper home of our own?" His anger banked, and he sagged wearily. "I I am tired, princess. I just I want a home for my people. I like fighting, but I don't want to have to kill for a living! I want a place where my people can be safe! I want that village by the sea back!"

"You can never get back the home you lost," she replied gently. "But together, you and I can build your people a better one."

"What?" he asked, not daring to hope. "What do you mean?"

And so she told him of the lands ruled by the great dragon she served, and of how amongst those lands, were lands by the sea.

"Swear your loyalty to me and to him, and your people will be given those lands to rule in his name."

"Will he really accept us?" Xiang asked quietly. "We are tiger-people."

"That doesn't matter to him." The princess laughed. "To him, we're all the same humans, beast-people, dwarves, dryads, or monsters. Trust me, all that matters to him is that you serve him loyally and do your best to improve both yourself and his lands. Do that, and you'll get along just fine."

It sounded wonderful, but years of distrust had made him wary of dreams.

"Xiang," the princess said. "You spoke of how much your grandfather loved the sea. Tell me, how long has it been since he last saw the sea?"

"Too long" Xiang murmured. "Far, far too long." He nodded firmly. "I will speak to the dragon, princess. And and if all you have said is true, then I will swear whatever oaths he asks of me."

"That's great." She stood as the sound of footsteps came from outside the door. "I am sure your wife and children wish to speak with you, so I won't take up any more of your time." She chuckled. "By the way, Doomwing had a friend once a tiger-man. He doesn't talk about his past much, so for him to mention him I don't think he has anything against tiger-people."