“Drake! That was incredible” I shouted as soon as he was in earshot, practically screaming to make myself heard over the sound of Cruiser’s wingbeats.
My knights and Mana had been exploding with excitement ever since the battle’s conclusion, chirping back and forth at one another in a cacophony I couldn’t even begin to decipher.
Cutter was utterly silent, his eyes fixed on his trainer with a new, awed light filling them.
With a sore-sounding grunt, Drake leveraged himself off of Cruiser’s back, dropping to the ground. The rest of his team arrived, somehow recovered enough already to fly under their own power. They swooped in and around him, forming a formidable aerie atop the mountain peak.
Drake made a beckoning gesture towards his newest partner, and the little Axew sprinted over, the normally cantankerous whelp letting his trainer pick him up without fuss.
The old sailor placed the diminutive dragon on his shoulders. Cutter practically beamed from his perch, reveling in the almost visible aura of ferocity and joy pouring off the former champion and his team.
“It was a group effort,” he finally turned to me after getting Cutter situated. “We all had to work together.”
“But– you did it,” I told him, in many ways still completely stunned by that fact. “You defeated the Serpent. Defeated a god!”
Somehow, Drake had it in him to let out a rueful chuckle. “An aspect of it, maybe. And I think it could have kept going, at the end there, if it really wanted to.”
“But you won! Or close enough, anyway. How many other people can say that?”
Eight, at least from this peak. Though none of those are likely still alive. A voice spoke into our minds, heralding the arrival of the instigator of all this madness. A swoop of wings brought the Noivern matriarch spiraling down to join our conclave. I’d grown used to the old dragon’s stately and refined manner over the last couple of days, which was why it was such a shock to see her so unrestrained.
The ancient wyvern’s expression was beaming, and a palpable feeling of excitement radiated off of her. Old scars I’d noted absently before now stood out starkly against her graying fur, and steam emerged from her mouth, azure gas curling up to highlight her gleaming amber eyes. All the tufts of fur on the back of her neck were standing straight up, and her horns were straining, stressing like they had a mind of their own, intent on birthing the explosive noise they were well-capable of out into the world.
This was a dragon that could challenge any one of Drake’s team. Well, maybe not Cruiser, but certainly the rest of his partners. The four of them bristled, only the Salamence calm in the presence of this agitated, wild predator.
The Noivern matriarch wasn’t here for a fight, however. Now please hold for a brief time. She spoke into our minds again, her telepathy incongruently calm, compared to her expression. It has been long since one was last called to do this honor, and I have a mind to perform the rite properly, in the presence of my peers.
Drake’s partners bristled and growled, but the old master held up a steadying hand, indicating for them to stand down.
The Noivern turned away from us, facing the range, and inhaled a huge breath. What followed was a roar to rival Rayquaza’s, an almost solid wall of sound erupting from the Dragon-type’s mouth and speaker-like horns in a concentrated wave that shook the stones of even the peaks furthest from us.
For a few moments, all was still and quiet, and then, answering roars erupted from all up and down the mountains, cast from an untold number of throats.
Hoots, cries, howls, croaks, growls, and undulations. Any sound you could imagine a dragon making could be heard echoing across the range as what seemed like every beast inhabiting the peaks made their presence known.
The noise didn’t stop, the cacophony only swelling in volume as dark shapes began erupting from the heights and spires, ascending to join us in the clouds. Hundreds of dragons, flying and otherwise, ascending the rocky crags however they could to be a part of this moment.
Here, a Goodra with a whole family of Goomy and Sliggoo adhered to its back, using its antennae to haul itself ever-upwards.
There, a solitary Drampa, barely able to get aloft under its own power, its ancient skin dyed almost purple with age, blearily flapping towards us.
An Altaria escorting an entire flock of Swablu, a bonded pair of Salamence, a strange, purple and brown creature that looked more like it belonged under the sea than up here among the clouds.
All over, dozens of dragons I could name and what felt like an equal number I could not, working their way into the heavens, called by the Noivern matriarch for her arcane purposes.
Drake and I and our partners stood still and silent before the breathtaking display, watching as the spires surrounding ours became crowded with jostling drakes, dragons, and wyverns of all varieties. There was some posturing, arguments over hierarchy, but under the Noivern matriarch’s watchful glare, no fighting erupted. Instead, strange sense of peace suppressing the prideful beasts.
Eventually, those that could come had arrived, and the architect of this gathering began her speech. “Noivern, Noiv, Noivern.”
It was the first time I had heard the wizened dragon actually speak, and her tone was so complex, so compacted with intent, it felt like each syllable was a sentence. I could hardly dissect the layers of meaning contained within her speech, but fortunately for Drake and I, the matriarch was more than capable of matching her words with simultaneous telepathic messages.
It has been near five-hundred seasons since last a human was tested by Heavens' Ruler. Some of you may still remember the days when they still lived amongst us, inhabiting these peaks as we do.
I knew people had lived here before based on the buildings they’d left behind, but I hadn’t realized they’d only vacated the region so recently. Less than one-hundred fifty years, if I was interpreting the Noivern correctly. What had driven them from this place?
The mystery would need to wait, for the matriarch’s speech continued. Some of us still descend the mount, or match our hatchlings with those of the humans below, but I have long worried that the days of this place’s glory were forever ended.
She took a deep breath, and then continued. Now, I fear no longer. Let the descent of the Heavens remind us that there are days still yet lived, goals yet unachieved, and peaks yet unconquered. When I compare the Raging One’s fight against the Heavens, I find nothing lacking compared to the triumphs in my memories. Let it be known, that I believe him a match for all the masters of the past, be they The Sheltering Flame, The Herald’s Call, The Dark, or even The Youngest Hero.
A susurration ran through the assembled Pokémon at the mention of these ancient titles, though none of them meant anything to Drake or I, judging by the blank expression on my mentor’s face. Truthfully, the names were less epithets in truth, and more assemblages of psychic feelings, bundled and woven so tightly together that their mere utterance was causing a headache to form at the front of my skull. I interpreted the names as best I could, but it felt like viewing a geode from one angle. Beautiful and sparkling, but lacking a full comprehension of all its sides and facets.
I pushed through the pounding of my skull to continue listening to the matriarch’s speech.
And so I declare The Raging One shall henceforth be known amongst these peaks as The Drowning Swell. He and his have risen from the land and sea below to lay low an aspect of the Heavens. Such a feat could only be accomplished by a master in true. Let the skies above tremble with his name, and acknowledge the crowning of a true ruler of the skies.
The conclusion of the matriarch’s speech was met by a chorus of roars, the scale and volume of which made the air vibrate under their pressure. Cruiser sheltered us within his wings, lowering the unearthly clarion from impossibly loud to merely ear-shattering.
And then, it was done. Their acknowledgement awarded, the dragons departed, in ones and twos at first, and then in whole swarms, flying and climbing away from the assemblage, freed from the matriarch’s call.
Soon, the peak was occupied just by us, our teams, the Noivern, and a few of the wild dragons that had been training with us over the past few days.
I appreciate your patience, the Noivern matriarch nodded gratefully. And for granting me an opportunity I had thought forever lost.
Drake inclined his head in turn. “And thank you for introducing us to such an incredible challenge,” he said aloud, presumably for the benefit of the rest of us. “It helped me recontextualize some big decisions I’d been mulling over.”
I blinked a couple of times, processing the statement. “So, does that mean…?” I trailed off, unable to actually ask the question, but Drake knew what I was wondering.
“I’m not quite done. I’ll join Steven Stone on his elite four, if he’ll have me,” Drake acknowledged. “After all, if the Serpent has deigned to descend, it means interesting times are ahead. I would hate to miss them.”
The Noivern matriarch released a telepathic chuckle. We’re only as old as we feel, after all. She said cryptically, before taking to the air in a burst of wind. With one last fading roar, the matriarch departed, diving beneath the clouds and out of sight between one blink and the next.
-
We weren’t completely done on the mountaintop. Drake thanked each of our helpers, and passed off sage-sounding advice. Apparently, he actually was capable of giving clear directions, just not for my benefit. I tucked away the tiny amount of resentment that realization spawned in me, and mounted up on Cruiser with Drake after we recalled the rest of our teams.
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The massive Salamence was clearly tired, judging by the relaxed pace he set as we flew back towards Techne. The clouds scattered as we fled the mountaintop, giving me a clearer view of the ground below than on our way out here. Inlets and bays dotted the coastline under us, which still wept with irregular waves, lapping in and off the coastline at breakneck paces.
Unable to think of a way to broach the topic I wanted to address, I unsubtly cleared my throat. Drake looked back over his shoulder at me with an arched brow, and I felt my face heating. “Uh, I took some pictures. On my Pokégear, that is. Do you want to see?”
He blinked a couple of times, uncharacteristically confused, so I hastened to explain. “Here, see?” I pulled the device from my bag, careful to make sure the attached strap was fastened around my wrist. I navigated to the pictures I took, and pulled one of them up on the grainy, green-tinged screen. It showed a pale blur, dipping in and out between the emerald coils of some enormous beast. “It doesn’t look good on the screen, but I know someone who can help enhance the pictures. Get them printed so you could have some copies, as a memento.”
He eyed the device carefully, before holding out a hand. I undid the strap, affixing it on Drake’s wrist before passing the Pokégear over. He inspected the photos, clearly unused to the device at first, but utilizing it with quickly-improving proficiency as seconds turned into minutes. Eventually, he let out an acknowledging grunt. “Listen, Fe, is this device important to you?”
Now it was my turn to be nonplussed. “Um, it's useful, but I’m not super attached to it.” It’d be another thing if he was asking me about the jailbroken Macros Gear my coworker Mark had given me, but this machine was just the refurbished Pokégear my mom had picked up for me when she heard I was looking to sign up as a junior ranger. The device was woefully out of date, and I basically only used it for its map function.
“Hmm,” the dragon master mused consideringly. He eyed the Pokégear, as if thinking about something, before levering a sigh, and then continuing: “I’m going to be honest, Fe. These pictures are valuable. Too valuable for me to be comfortable leaving in foreign hands. Don’t think too badly of me, I promise I’ll get a commiserate replacement in your hands as fast as possible, along with compensation for the data inside.”
For a moment, I was stunned. Staggered by the audacity. But– what could I do about it? Even as something hard and mean settled in my gut, I thought fast. The Pokégear was quickly written off. I respected Drake. Hell, I liked Drake (or I had before this stunt!), and I was pretty sure he liked me (or so I’d thought), but I wasn’t under any illusions about the likelihood of getting the device back from him.
I kept the hot anger trying to stir in my stomach suppressed, as much as I could, and focused on cold practicality. “Compensate how? I don’t really need money,” I told the former champion, struggling to keep my voice level. It helped that what I’d said was true. Poké Gold certainly wouldn’t hurt, but it was hardly necessary for me right now. There had to be something better I could get out of the dragon master, but I felt like it was best to let him start the negotiations, lest I shoot too low.
The old sailor thought for a few seconds. He looked me up and down, and rubbed his chin musingly. “I know in Ferrum Pokémon aren’t usually bought and sold, so I don’t want you to take this offer the wrong way, but I could secure a partner for you. Practically whatever you want, if I’m being honest.”
In some ways, the offer was surprisingly tempting. Like a lairing dragon offering me some small part of its gleaming hoard. And yet, there was only one answer I could give. Frankly, that he’d even asked was a shocking reminder to me about the differences between our cultures. And a little bit insulting. “It’d be one thing if it was a gift,” I started.
“You couldn’t think about it that way?” he asked, speaking over me before I could continue.
“No,” I shook my head. “I’d only ever consider it a transaction. There’s no way I could accept a partner on those terms.”
The old sailor stared at me for a few moments, and then leaned back with a sigh. “My apologies. I knew how you’d answer that question, and I asked anyway,” he fell silent, apparently thinking.
“Do you know any Fighting or Water masters?” I asked him, after a couple of minutes passed. “I don’t know all the moves my partners can learn, and no one in Ferrum can help me with that. If you can secure some advice for me, so I can train Mana and my knights on my own, I’d consider that square.”
He turned back to look at me again, though I couldn’t read his expression. He faced away, but I caught a nod. “I suppose I could reach out to some old friends. It'll do for a start then.”
We both fell silent, as Cruiser sped through the air. Now freed from conversation, something worked its way up from my stomach and settled in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to keep cool, and objectively evaluate how upset I should be. How upset I was. The ‘objective’ part was hard. Mostly because I was definitely at least a little bit upset.
Okay. More than a little.
I’d offered to share the pictures freely, because I thought the man who was mentoring me might like them. On thinking about it, I could understand why he didn’t want other people seeing them. They showed his team and their potential capabilities, and not only that, they might have useful information about one of the most powerful Pokémon in existence, if the Serpent even counted as a Pokémon.
And maybe it’d been stupid of me to bring them up. Maybe I’d let my admiration for Drake’s feat blind me to who he was. Maybe I could have kept my mouth shut. And they were just pictures anyway, nothing I really cared about. The Pokégear was a piece of crap that I'd love to see upgraded to a newer model.
But also, what right did he have to take it away from? To make that decision unilaterally, to my face. I felt a rumbling beneath me, some guttural growl from the enormously powerful engine of destruction on which I was riding. Memories flashed by, unbidden, of Cruiser scattershotting a move I’d never even heard of, firing off exploding orange orbs like a one-Pokémon artillery battery, each which looked like it might overpower a Hyper Beam.
What right did Drake have? The right of the strong. Really, I couldn’t have ever stopped the former champion from taking my Pokégear. That he seemed to feel guilty about it only slightly assuaged the small, burning pit of resentment festering in my bones. If I was stronger, would Drake have let me keep the pictures? Would he be too concerned about my ire to risk clashing over them?
It was a question I already knew the answer to. At very least, he probably would have asked.
Drake might like me, he might even have had my best interests in mind. But he didn’t respect me. Not really.
I had to stew on that realization the entire way back to Techne.
-
We landed at the docks, Drake apparently uninterested in spending a second longer in Ferrum than he had to. Some of my feelings must have been showing on my face, because when the old master went to help me off his partner’s back, he stopped abruptly, his hand only partly outstretched.
I didn’t wait another moment, bringing my leg around to drop off the enormous dragon’s back onto the hard concrete. I let out a bit of a grunt involuntarily, as the fall dragged a bit on my syn, but I was able to stand without issue. A second later, Drake’s huge frame landed beside me.
The autumn light was fading fast, the sun barely still above the line of the horizon, and when I looked up at the dragon master, it spread around him like a corona, forcing me to squint my eyes. I couldn’t really see his face as he looked down on me, casting his shadow long onto the concrete docks. I could see his hand though, outstretched for me to shake. “Sorry to leave things on a sour note, Fe. It’s been a genuine pleasure helping you train this week. I can honestly say you’ve exceeded my expectations.”
“Because I’m from Ferrum?” I couldn’t help but ask, spitting out the question. “Where we battle weird, without any strategy?”
I still couldn’t see Drake’s face. “Because you’re sharp,” he refuted. “Because you were able to learn things in a week that take some people a season, or longer.” There was something hard in his voice, just a bit. Just enough to let me know that he was speaking only the truth.
I dropped my eyes in the face of his honesty. “Thanks,” I finally mumbled out, unable to come up with something else to say.
I heard another sigh, and then Drake’s voice. “Rhea,” he called out. A few seconds later, I felt something cold behind me. I spun, only to find a teal-colored specter floating there, massive tongue stuck out as two Dreepy pulled the Dragapult’s surprisingly malleable horns into strange, arcane shapes. The normally squinting eyes of the dragon were literally bugging out of his flattened skull, bouncing up and down as he made a taunting croak.
I took an involuntary step back from sheer surprise, and as my eyes took on the ghost’s absurd expression, I couldn’t help it. I let out a chuckle, and then one full laugh.
Seemingly satisfied with my reaction, the dragon made a quick slurping sound, and then an exaggerated belch, before offering me a jaunty wave. The two Dreepy waved as well, as the trio gradually faded from sight.
I turned back to Drake, confusion once again written on my face. “Rhea handles my personal correspondence,” he explained. “Once he’s gotten a shock or a laugh out of you, he can use it’s scent track you wherever you go. He’ll help us keep in contact so I can pay you back.”
At the reminder of the extant debt, my good humor quickly fled. “Right,” I said, voice quiet, once more looking down at the ground. Maybe I was being stupid. I should be clinging to Drake, trying to keep this relationship however I could. His advice and potential support was literally invaluable. Hell, he’d literally saved my life a few days ago.
And yet– that feeling persisted in my mind. Of something much larger than you, looking down at you, like you weren’t even worth consideration, and then choosing to stomp down.
I was definitely being stupid. But all the same, Drake’s actions had made me feel this way, and in this moment, I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive him for that.
Maybe the former champion knew, maybe he understood, because he didn’t offer any excuse or apology. He retracted his hand, and recalled his partner. “Goodbye, Fe,” he said, in a tone I couldn’t parse.
The sound of heavy footfalls grew gradually quieter, and the long shadow covering me from the autumn sun receded, until I was left standing alone under the fading light, the roaring of the ocean waves crashing in my head.
-
As I walked through the dark streets, I kept my ears open for any mention of the day's events. The Dragon’s Nest wasn’t that far from Techne. In fact, I could see it, just barely, off in the distance, the very top ends of a range of mountains, rapidly growing faint with the onset of night.
The Serpent had blown away the clouds around the peak for kilometers. Surely people had seen it?
But no one was talking about it. The screens in Roent Square showed sports broadcasters discussing the upcoming promotion tournaments, interspersed with commercials for products for Ferrum battlers I’d never be able to use.
No mention that a god had descended on our region less than six hours ago.
Pikachu had been unconscious in her ball, so apparently, the only record of Drake’s struggle against the divine remaining in Techne was my memory, and that of my partners. It felt… woefully insufficient.
No, it felt wrong. It felt like being the only witness to a crime. I wanted to scream, to cry and shout, but I knew the things I had to say were words that no one else would believe.
I stopped in front of Alyssa’s apartment. Some part of me ached to go in and tell my best friend about what I’d been party to, what I’d experienced.
Instead, I handed Pikachu’s ball to Mrs. Peters, her housekeeper, and walked back home.
What could I even tell her, that would capture the smallest part of the struggle I’d born witness to? That would explain the aching hole in my heart, from watching a man I’d come to admire do something I thought impossible, only to have that same person turn around and betray me, even if only in the smallest way. Prove that he too, was just a person, in spite of his grand feat.
How could I convey the crippling realization that divine perfection had fallen to flawed, mortal hands.
Earlier today, I’d felt Drake’s accomplishment all the more impressive for it. Now, somehow, that epiphany felt tainted.
Would she even believe me, if I tried to explain? I wasn’t sure I would, were I in her shoes.
I opened the door to my apartment, the darkened entryway ominous, and silent. My parents were both working, a bit unusual for a Sunday night, but hardly unheard of.
Some part of me expected to feel lonely, or hurt. Instead, I didn’t feel anything at all.
I was probably just done with feelings for the day. That had to be it.
I was just being stupid. Soon, Drake would pay me back way more than those stupid pictures really mattered.
As for tonight, my partners would comfort me, if I asked. We’d talk, reminisce, and commiserate. Tomorrow, we’d face the world together, stronger, braver, connected. Surely, that was more than I even really deserved to ask for.
Surely, I’d stop feeling like the sky was falling, and no one else had noticed.
