142. Military Infiltration

It was the perfect job for Morph. Biomancy would’ve allowed him to infiltrate and dismantle the Wyrmkins the same way he had the Jotun’s leadership. Lukas could’ve easily dispelled the Super Clone and resummoned him, but he had an important role to play. They would need to resolve the issue without Biomancy’s power. Instead, he used the journal’s messaging function to contact Morph.

Lukas: I need you to lead the Jotun over here. Either the woman you’ve befriended or whoever is hunting our sorcerer friend instead of the Wyrmkin.

Morph Prime: Did you find something we can use for evidence?

Bowie: We did one better. There is a fucking army up here.

Lukas: I’m dispelling the Stalker for a moment. Do the same with one of your Morphs. It should give you the rough location.

The Stalker had crept out through an opening near the edge of the Wyrmkin camp, which allowed light into the giant cavern. Flashes of the mountainscape and surroundings filled Lukas’s mind when he got rid of the clone. He ducked into the shadows of a boulder before summoning it again.

Morph Prime: Got it, boss. I’ll make sure the warchief hunting Penelope makes it there. This might actually work. I thought we were delaying the inevitable.

Lukas sighed.

Lukas: I thought the same. Now, we need to figure out what they are doing here. I doubt it’s just the dracometal. It looks like a good bonus.

Morph Prime: You’re not going to back off, are you? You’re going to complete the quest.

Lukas: I don’t care about the quest. If the Jotun can take out the tribe, it’ll be done. I want to fuck up whatever they’re working on so they have a better chance.

The Elder Wyrmkin army had turned the cavern into a tent city; it appeared far better organized than the Shamin’s operation or their lesser brethren’s mountain camp. It was much like the cavern section of The Grey. They had divided the area into four distinct sections.

The outermost section closest to where Lukas hid and the cavern’s exit housed the armored soldiers. Many were as big or bulky as Shae. They had colorful scales, and their camp contained bright, fanciful decorations. A metallic and crimson duo stood out more than the others. It wouldn’t surprise Lukas if they were subject to awakening rituals similar to what Penelope utilized when unlocking Shae’s potential. They stood talking over a stone slab near the center of the crescent-shaped section where it was thickest. Large tents, more colorful than the others, surrounded it.

It appeared to be where the army’s strongest male forces operated. Getting through or around the section would be especially challenging. Lukas sent his resummoned Stalker to investigate the area and find a way through. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Lukas was confident in the clone’s ability. Between the skills cultivated over several decades, Shade’s Mantle, and Silencing Shadows, they’d figure it out soon. Lukas just hoped they had enough time on hand.

Beyond the soldier’s crescent seemed to be where the support staff resided. They, too, were colorful but much smaller, and the tents could barely be called homes. They were barely tarps held up by rough-hewn sticks. Cooking fires were spread around them. Skinny, short, colorful wizards polished weapons and armor or repaired whatever their superiors had given them. Much to Lukas’s surprise, there were ordinary Wyrmkin among them too. They seemed even lower on the totem pole than the ordinary males.

Lukas scanned for weak links among them. The abused males had proven loyal to their masters but were also easily exploitable. However, he doubted there was enough time to capture and develop such an asset. Whatever they thought up needed to be done within an hour, two at most.

The dracometal vein glittered near the rear of the camp, wrapping around the back of the cavern. Despite the distance, Lukas could feel its energy. The scales born of his ability had made him familiar with their magic. It was the only section of the tent city that didn’t segregate by gender. Both the male and female Elder Wyrmkin wore dull grey outfits. Colorful feathers, strings and ribbons decorated the grayscale specimens’ manes.

Ordinary Wyrmkin ran around doing the menial chores or striking stone with ugly picks. They looked runny, like half-burned candles. It reminded Lukas of the first weapons he had picked up following his arrival on Fracture. The amount he made from them was paltry even when he was destitute. Carts carried chunks of stone to the furnaces where Elder Wyrmkin worked, refining the glittering ore and turning it into more.

Lukas wished to reach the artisans not just for the dracometal but also to investigate how the dragon-descendant creatures manipulated it. Flukas and Eins had conducted research on the subject but found nothing beyond fairy tales. Great heroes often received tools, weapons, or armor of legendary materials before facing the ultimate villains of their quest. Dracometal occasionally featured among them. They were all crafted in mythical forges, by the flames of ancient dragons or phoenix hearts, or by the hearts of dying stars. Meanwhile, the Elder Wyrmkin didn’t appear to have any such mythical sources at their disposal.

At the heart of the tent city was where the arcane energies felt most concentrated. It was where the Shamins and mages seemed to reside. A giant magic circle sat in the middle of it all. Lukas had never seen anything as big. A dracometal obelisk as tall as Lukas stood at its center. He didn’t like the look of it one bit. Given everything he had learned about the Elder Wyrmkin from his studies and Shae, they were either going to summon something big and draconic or cause a natural disaster.

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No male members of the camp approached the circle. Servant males jogged after or around the large, decorated greyscales. Most of the female Elder Wyrmkin worked around the giant magic circle. Some worked around giant cauldrons. Others poked and prodded at captured local fauna. Lukas failed to spot an obvious leader among them.

Magic flared around Bowie as he moved closer to Lukas. “Is it me, or does it feel like they’ve been at this for a while?” the clone asked once the sound barrier around them solidified. “Given the infrastructure and the old spell circles—” He pointed at the edges of worn and faded scripts carved into the floor near the dracometal vein. “—those look months, if not years, old.”

“Hold on a moment.” Lukas frowned, focusing magic around his eyes. Assistant Spindle manifested in the boulder’s shadow. Strings of Life magic fed into Lukas’s spell, granting him telescopic vision. “I recognize those runes.” He returned his attention to the spell circle with the dracometal obelisk. “That’s a storm spell. With ice runes.”

“That would explain the increase in magical blizzards of late,” Ace commented. “Do you think they’re using it for cover, boss? For moving troops and getting up to whatever they’re doing.”

“The mountains are full of dragon remains. What if it’s not just ancient Silver Dragons? Rakan and his kind especially hate Silverspine’s kin, right? Maybe there are pieces of him around here, too.”

“And these bastards are looking for it,” Lukas whispered, completing Bowie’s thought. “Or they could also be trying to eliminate the Gray and all other competition with a mega calamity that relies on a dracometal focus for amplification.”

“We could both be right.”

“The why isn’t important,” Ace stated. “We just need to stop them and take the dracometal for ourselves. Let me go in with Mr. Stalker.” He pointed at the forges. “A nice dose of bad luck could make those go boom and give us the chaos we desire.”

“Perhaps as a last resort.” Lukas sighed. “What if Morph’s lie to the Jotun is actually the truth? This lot.” He nodded at the army ahead. “Are a tenacious bunch, and everyone is clearly underestimating their resources. This is more than just a cult.”

“Look over there.” Bowie pointed at a trio of female Elder Wyrmkin moving away from the central spell circle. Their adornment was more colorful and intricate than that of the grey-scaled individuals around them. A large entourage of short and skinny males and lesser Wyrmkin followed the group. “Leading council, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. How is your progress with illusion magic going?”

“Not the best, but I can make it work if you can lend me the spindle,” Bowie answered, swinging the lute that hung from his back around. “I don’t know how effective it will be, but if you need time and a distraction, I can make it work.”

Ace pulled his dice out of thin air and shook them in his cupped hand. “I can help. I can’t guarantee a perfect role, but a little nudge might be enough.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get.” Both clones looked to Lukas. “What’re you thinking, boss?”

The Shadow Mantle crawled up Lukas’s legs before enveloping him. It clung to him like a second skin that fluttered in the soft breeze drifting through the cavern. Silencing Shadows and all the concealment spells that he and Flukas had developed over the past year took hold. They didn’t just eliminate all the sound he made and conceal his form. Penelope’s keen senses could detect his magic. Neither her familiar nor Shae could pick up his scent or presence.

The shadows around Lukas solidified into steel but remained light, adopting a matte quality. They condensed, adopting the shape of one of the lesser Elder Wyrmkin males. Shadow Illusion helped with the feat, but it was far from enough. The sub-ability worked best in dimly lit areas where it made sense to see only silhouettes. Meanwhile, the encampment had fires, torches, and magical lamps. Lukas hoped his modifications wouldn’t make the shadowy form stand out too much within the camp’s perimeter.

When the Stalker signaled, Lukas moved. The clone copied him, shaping Shade’s Mantle into a serviceable illusion with an ease that only Stalkers and Spellweavers could. Lukas and all other clones found it annoying. They waited until a pair of servants passed, carrying buckets of waste to a hole in the cave floor. It was past several large rocks, which provided satisfactory concealment. It appeared a magic user had also opened an opening in the neighboring cave wall so the vile stench wouldn’t reach the camp.

Once the servants entered cover, Shadowsteel blades put them down. Their dirty brown-grey robes moved to new bodies. The pair kept their hoods up and heads low. It didn’t seem uncommon for the service staff to move with their shoulders hunched and avoiding eye contact. Observation had told Lukas that all of their robes bore insignia marking who they served, that only their masters had the right to order them around, and that large embroidered signs on the tents gave away who they served.

The creatures that wore the robes before Lukas and the Stalker served one of the smaller tents in the mage’s section. As a result, none of the soldiers got in their way. In fact, the lesser Wyrmkin that served them bowed or scurried to get out of the pair’s path. They walked with as much confidence as a pair of abused members of the servant class could muster. Instead of taking the direct path, they wove their way forward, keeping to the shadows of larger tents, where the shadows helped the hoods conceal their faces.

Lukas’s heart pounded in his chest, threatening to climb up his throat and choke him. They were surrounded on all sides. If the disguises failed, he doubted there would be a way out. The enemy was all around them, and experience had taught him that the Elder Wyrmkin mages were incredibly potent. Lukas had grown significantly stronger. However, fleeing with the still-incomplete Shadow Step felt like the best option.

The air changed as soon as the duo crossed into the mage’s section. While the soldiers appeared strict but somewhat mirthful, things among the magic users’ tents were significantly colder. No one laughed. Barely anyone spoke.

“You, there!” A high-pitched voice called, breaking the heavy, clawing silence. Lukas’s heart rate had just started to drop, but instantly jumped to new heights. He and the Stalker kept walking, hoping it wasn’t beckoning them. “Halt, vermin!”

The stone underfoot softened. Lukas felt it happen and could’ve easily avoided the incoming spell, but he was committed to the role and allowed his right leg to be encased by rock. The same thing happened to the Stalker simultaneously.

“I beckoned you vermin,” said a female Elder Wyrmkin, as the moving earth forced the pair to rotate. “When a grey scale calls, you answer.”

She marched up to Lukas, reaching for his hood. His hand shot forth and grabbed her wrist. The prepared lightning spell discharged instantly. Shadows from the Stalker simultaneously wrapped around the female Elder Wyrmkin's neck and mouth, ensuring her screams remained suppressed.