A Sleeping Giant
Sleeping beneath a mountain of ice offered nothing beyond a profound, aching stiffness. Mortals love romanticizing the deep freeze; they spin endless fireside ballads about a majestic titan resting in absolute serenity beneath the frost.
Fools.
The cold bit deep into the marrow, gnawing on ancient bone and thick scale with equal cruelty, leaving me with three centuries of dreams trapped in an endless loop.
Footsteps crunched through the compacted snow directly above my snout. The sound registered as a tiny, insignificant disruption against the howling wind. A human stood shivering at the lip of the crater. Cracking one eye open revealed a man clutching a slender vial of glowing alchemical heat. This trespassing scholar expected a wrathful god wrapped in myth. Then the little shit poured the substance directly onto my frozen nose.
The glacier shattered in a spectacular cascade of ruin. Wiggling my toes came first. Dragging my dormant ass out of this ice prison required a monumental effort I remained unprepared to attempt. Melting slush clung to my scales. Movement demanded a heavy toll. Half the horns running from my crown to my tail were missing, lost to old war wounds. My left wing resembled chewed leather hanging limp against my ribs.
Dropping his empty glass vial into the snow, the man stared in absolute silence. The scholar crossed the world seeking a savior clad in burning scales, receiving a battered, overgrown reptile instead. Soon, he would discover that the attitude matched the aesthetic.
“Draw a picture, scholar. It lasts longer,” I rasped, shaking a clump of ice from my shredded wing. “Now, do you have anything to eat, or am I starting with your legs?”
The human blinked, clutching a thick fur cloak tighter around his neck against the biting wind. “You speak?”
“No, I am a collective hallucination brought on by severe frostbite. Yes, I speak. I also complain, mock, and occasionally set things on fire. You woke me. Feed me.”
The man tossed a frozen strip of salted venison over the rim of the crater, waiting like a statue. The meat landed softly in the slush. I inhaled the offering in a single breath. The flesh tasted horrible. It would suffice for now, saving the human for a later snack.
“What is your name, stupid?” I stretched my spine, that sent a chorus of pops echoing off the ice.
“M-my name is Kaelen,” the mortal announced, puffing out his chest with an absurd amount of pride. “I have crossed the Spine of the World to seek the Ashen Lord.”
“You found a lizard with a bad back.” I said and laid my massive head back down on the ice; I closed my eyes against the glaring snow. “Go away.”
“The valleys are dying.” Kaelen slid down the icy slope, entirely ignoring basic survival instincts. “The sorcerer king has sealed the world’s warmth inside iron spires, leaving the rest to freeze in their beds. We need the fire.”
“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” Tucking my snout beneath my good wing blocked the wind. “Wake me when the sun explodes.”
“Coward.”
Opening one eye, I focused on the tiny mortal standing mere inches from my teeth. No scent of fear tainted the crisp air around him. The sheer audacity was refreshing.
“I am not a coward,” I rumbled, letting a thin wisp of smoke curl lazily from my nostrils. “I am retired.”
Frost coated the cavern walls, leaching ambient warmth from my massive frame. Conserving heat demanded a smaller shape. I hated shifting. It felt like dying backward. Bone cracked and reshaped under the bitter wind. The monstrous form stripped away in a violent cascade of condensing mass. I stood before the scholar as a towering man, bare to the freezing air. Dignity died a long time ago.
Kaelen stared. Human skin carried the exact ruin of my lost scales. Jagged scars mapped centuries of terrible decisions across my chest. A deep, twisting burn mark anchored the mess, born from a conflict forgotten by mortal history. The scholar refused to avert his gaze. Unclasping his heavy fur mantle, Kaelen stepped too close. He draped the thick pelt over my bare shoulders. His knuckles brushed my collarbone. The touch lingered a second too long.
Ummm, that was weird.
***
The descent out of the cave was a brutal exercise in physics. We crunched through drifts of crystalline powder that threatened to swallow the man whole. Kaelen moved with a desperate, frantic pace, his boots carving deep furrows into the ice. I followed, keeping to his shadow to cut the wind. Every step against the incline reminded me that being mortal meant having a limited, pathetic reserve of stamina.
When the cavern mouth finally gave way to the jagged expanse of the pass, the horizon looked like a wound. The world below was a white void, silent and suffocating. Kaelen paused at the edge of the descent, looking out at the iron spires glinting in the distance. He looked small. A speck of dust against a backdrop of frozen malice.
“See them?” he asked, pointing toward the valley. His voice was a thin thread of hope, which I found deeply annoying.
“I see a lot of work for an exhausted little dragon,” I replied, watching the clouds churn above the spires. “The spires are ugly, the wind is offensive, and you are far too optimistic for a man who is currently turning blue.”
Kaelen ignored the barb; the man had no basic sense of humor. “We must cross the ice flats before the second moon rises. The sorcerers patrol the perimeter.”
“Patrols.” I scoffed. “Gods forbid they leave their little iron boxes to experience actual weather. What’s the plan, Kaelen? Are we going to walk right up to the gates and ask them to kindly turn off the winter? Or are you going to dazzle them with more of your inspiring cheerfulness?”
He turned to look at me, I sensed a sharp pulse of blood and irritation. It was an intrusive, uncomfortable sensation. “That is why I woke you up. You must find the way in. You are the weapon.”
“I am a glorified heater with a limp.” I began the trek down the slope, my human joints protesting the shift. “And if I end up as a trophy on a sorcerer’s wall, I am going to be exceptionally difficult to resurrect. Keep that in mind.”
“I don’t plan on letting you die.”
“Of course not. That would be inconvenient for the fate of the world.” I didn’t bother looking back. “Just keep your nose down and try not to trip. I really don’t feel like dragging you across this tundra.”
The flatness of the ice fields lay ahead, an endless sheet of frozen indifference. It was perfect. A vast, empty stretch of nothingness where I could at least hope for a moment of quiet before the inevitable chaos. But looking at Kaelen—trudging forward with that stiff, determined gait—I knew the quiet was a lie.
I hated heroes. They were the most exhausting things in existence.
***
Walking across the ice flats required an offensive amount of effort. My human lungs burned with every inhaled breath of frost. Kaelen trudged beside me. His lips carried a distinct shade of blue.
“Explain something to me, scholar,” I said, keeping my voice low against the howling wind. “You crossed a frozen continent and climbed a mountain. You poured glowing liquid on a sleeping apex predator. Why? You possess a silver blade and clearly know how to use it. Stab the king yourself.”
Kaelen shook his head. Frost fell from his heavy hood. “The Sorcerer King wears a mantle of absolute zero. Mortal weapons shatter against his skin. Mortal magic feeds his engine. Any spell cast in his presence gets absorbed, fueling the freeze.”
“So he is a parasite.”
“An architect of this nightmare,” Kaelen corrected, panting heavily. “Nothing human burns hot enough to pierce the mantle. We needed primordial fire, something stronger than human weapons. I just hoped… I hoped your fire could stop him.”
“You woke me up to act as a weapon of mass destruction?”
“I woke you up to save the world.”
“Oh, the world. What a devastating loss that would be. A frozen rock covered in hairless apes stabbing each other over shiny metals. I am weeping on the inside. It is highly offensive that you dragged me into this.”
***
The iron spires loomed ahead. Black metal pierced the low clouds, radiating an unnatural, sucking cold. Two dozen guards clad in heavy furs paced the perimeter walls. Arcane lanterns illuminated the massive steel gates.
Kaelen crouched behind a snowdrift, calculating patrol routes. “Three minutes between rotations. We need to scale the eastern wall.”
“Scaling walls is for thieves and rodents.” I stepped out from behind the drift.
“What are you doing?” Kaelen hissed.
“Opening the door.”
I walked straight toward the gate. A guard shouted a warning and leveled crossbows at my chest. I ignored them, pressing my bare hands against the frozen steel of the barricade. The alchemical bond in my veins flared. I channeled the heat of the earth’s core into my palms. The steel groaned, glowing cherry-red. The heavy doors collapsed inward, melting into a puddle of useless slag within seconds.
The guards stared in shock, completely paralyzed by the sight of a half-naked man liquefying their impenetrable fortress.
I walked through the smoking ruins.
“Are you coming, scholar?” I called over my shoulder.
Kaelen scrambled through the breach, his eyes wide.
We navigated the labyrinth of freezing corridors. The temperature dropped with every step, signaling the proximity of the central engine. We pushed through a set of frosted glass doors, entering the throne room.
The Sorcerer King sat upon a dais of jagged, black ice. He wore robes of spun frost. His crown resembled shattered glass. He looked small, pale, and entirely unimpressive.
“Intruders.” The King’s voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling, slick and dripping with arrogance. “A mortal and his naked pet.”
I crossed my arms. “Naked pet. Creative.”
“You stand before the Architect of Silence,” the King proclaimed, rising from his throne. “I have silenced the oceans. I have frozen the pulse of this wretched planet. My grand design brings absolute order to a chaotic world. You think a single blade can disrupt the eternal winter?”
Kaelen gripped his sword. The blade shook. The sheer, oppressive aura of the King’s magic pressed down on us. The mortal scholar shivered, overwhelmed by the suffocating weight of the room.
All I felt was a flicker of annoyance. Not fear, mind you. Annoyance.
Stepping sideways, I blocked Kaelen from the King’s line of sight. “Get behind me,” I whispered. “Your chattering teeth are ruining the ambiance.”
The King descended the first step of the dais, spreading his arms wide. “I shall freeze the blood in your veins. I shall shatter your bones into dust and scatter them across the glacier. You are nothing before the master of the cold. The new epoch requires a sacrifice, and you shall serve as the foundation of my glorious—”
“Are you practicing for a play?” I interrupted, pinching the bridge of my nose.
The King halted mid-step. “Excuse me?”
“The speech. It lacks pacing. Do you have a monologue prepared for every guest who walks through that door, or am I receiving the premium package?” I dropped my hands to my sides. “I prefer sleep. You ruined it.”
I opened my mouth and let my primordial furnace loose.
A white-hot pillar of liquid fire erupted from my throat. The inferno struck the Sorcerer King with the force of a falling star. The mantle of absolute zero evaporated instantly. The King did not possess the time to scream. He vaporized, turning into a neat pile of gray ash upon the melting dais.
Silence hung in the sweltering room.
The side doors burst open and fifty or so royal guards rushed in, spears lowered, screaming battle cries.
“Amateurs,” I muttered.
I threw my arms wide and unleashed the full reservoir of ancient heat. Fire exploded outward in a massive shockwave. The flames washed over the charging guards, reducing their armor to slag and their bodies to frozen ash piles. The central engine beneath the floor cracked, overheating, detonating into a shower of harmless sparks.
The winter died.
“Here you go!” I roared at the empty room, feeling the sweat bead on my human skin. “You can have your summer now!”
I slumped against a stone pillar. Breathing in this fragile body felt exhausting. The room temperature soared. Sunlight broke through the frosted skylights, melting the ice in rapid, dripping streams.
Kaelen stepped out from behind me. He sheathed his sword, staring at the scorch marks decorating the throne room.
“We survived,” Kaelen said, breathless.
“Yeah, cuz I did all the work,” I corrected, wiping soot from my forehead.
Kaelen turned to face me. The oppressive terror was gone, replaced by a strange, quiet reverence. “I can feel the world warming.”
“You are welcome.”
Kaelen shifted some; was he nervous? “Umm… what are you going to do now? This was rather anticlimactic. Do you like maybe want to stay?”
I stared at the scholar. Mortals made the strangest requests. “Stay.”
“Stay with the people, with us,” Kaelen urged, taking a step closer.
I tilted my head, considering the sheer absurdity of the proposition. “Hmmm. Maybe I should hang out for a little while. Tell me, do you have any tasty humans to snack on? Saving the world makes me ravenous.”
Kaelen froze. A look of absolute horror washed over his features. The color drained from his face, leaving him paler than the dead king. He swallowed hard.
A shy, tentative smile touched the corner of his mouth after the shock wore off.
“You can snack on me in the meantime,” Kaelen said, clearing his throat with a nervous cough.
I blinked. My ancient brain misfired, struggling to process the sheer audacity of the mortal standing before me.
“What the fuuu…”
AND SCENE.