Dragon’s Breath

The record preserved here comes from a controlled demonstration arranged after a contributor asked whether the spell felt different when delivered by a creature “of insufficient dragon.”

The caster selected fire.

The delivery creature was a goat.

Vale later objected to the phrase “delivery creature,” though not as strongly as the goat objected to the proceedings.

Account of Orentha Vale

The goat looked ordinary.

This was the first mistake.

It had square pupils, a beard of modest ambition, and the air of a creature prepared to eat rope if scholarship grew dull. Nothing in its bearing suggested ancient majesty, hoarded gold, or ancestral wrath.

It chewed twice during the safety instructions.

Then the caster touched it.

The goat stopped chewing.

This concerned me.

There are moments when the body recognizes a contradiction before the mind has arranged language around it. A candle in a rainstorm. A corpse taking breath. A goat becoming solemn.

The spell gathered in its throat.

Not in the air. Not in the caster’s hands.

In the goat.

Its chest expanded. Its jaw opened. For one brief, terrible instant, the chamber accepted the possibility that this animal had always contained an argument with the world and had merely lacked permission.

Then it exhaled fire.

A fan of heat rolled across the marked floor, bright and sudden, carrying the smell of scorched chalk, singed wool, and several witnesses reconsidering their distance from agriculture. The wards held. My eyebrows did not require restoration, though I made note of the concern.

The heat struck like a door opening into summer’s worst intention. It touched the skin first, then the breath. My lungs tried to become smaller. My hands lifted too late, because hands are loyal but frequently optimistic.

The goat looked surprised by its own contribution.

This did not improve morale.

When the flame ended, the chamber remained intact. The goat sneezed. A small ember expired on the stone between us.

The contributor assigned to observe from the left line said, “That was more dragon than expected.”

This was the simplest accurate statement.

I have been struck by fire from sorcerers, traps, elementals, oil accidents, and one cook whose temper deserved classification.

This differed from ordinary flame because it arrived from the wrong story.

The body prepares differently for a dragon. Scale, wing, shadow, roar, the great intake of air before ruin.

It does not prepare for a barnyard animal briefly promoted beyond its station.

That is the lesson of this working. It lends terrible grammar to an unsuitable mouth.

One watches the wizard.

One should also watch the goat.

Selanka’s Note

This working is responsible for a regrettable number of letters containing the phrase “technically not an attack.”

I have read them.

I have survived.

The practical matter is simple: for a short time, the spell gives a willing creature permission to become everyone else’s problem. That creature need not possess the dignity commonly associated with breath weapons.

This is where many adventurers become unsafe company.

They watch the caster. Sensible. They watch the warrior. Also sensible. They do not watch the owl, cat, lizard, dog, rat near the grain sack, or goat that has become, for tactical purposes, an announcement of poor life choices.

Do not waste time arguing whether the creature has the moral stature required to exhale lightning.

If it has been touched by the spell, assume it may.

The breath is directional. Move out of the mouth’s argument.

The breath may also happen again. Do not praise your survival of the first exhalation while remaining politely arranged for the second.

Several correspondents have asked whether the spell is demeaning to dragons.

I have chosen not to forward their concerns.