Wings on my Back

by Alex Sapegin

  The elves on the other side finished their job. The portal’s arch flashed. The air started to ripple. Blurring the line of space, dozens of Woodies clad in armor from head to toe started jumping onto the shooting range. In a minute, there were already more than a hundred of them. Help had arrived; immediately after the reinforcements, an evacuation squadron followed. Without wasting a second, the warriors fell into several ranks and put their shields up. The archers brought up the squadron’s rear and flanks. A complex defense field popped up in front of the formation, where separate layers overlapped one another, repeating the pattern of the lamellar armor or shell. A dozen lit arrows couldn’t pierce it. It was the work of professionals. They seized the princess and sent her through the portal. Next, neatly and smoothly, they started sending the remaining high-born noble elves. Three dozen warriors separated from the formation and hastily headed towards the rest of his active pursuers. Another couple dozen headed towards the staircase.

  Looks like the gig is up…. Andy was about to say his last goodbyes to life when another portal opened up with a deafening clap and Vikings from the School guard, shielding themselves with body-length shields, poured onto the field. The magical shields that flickered before the guards looked like the brother of the Woody army’s shield. A pair of fireballs the pursuers let fly hit it, then dissolved into a beautiful bengal fire. Archers came through after the guards; after the archers, a toe-headed wave of Rauu; after the Rauu, dozens of “punishing mages.” Where did they all come from? Still, the Woodies are greater in number.

  After this sight, the Woodies were the first to wake up and take action. A short command and the archers moved to the front ranks. A wave of a hand and dozens of arrows with glowing scarlet tips flew up into the sky. Two seconds later, another batch was let loose. These were “firelights,” combat artifacts of explosive action. Soon after that, with a three-second delay, gifts of mass destruction flew in the opposite direction. The elves’ arrows reached their targets first, the rumble of explosions sounded, the shield withstood the first round, but failed after a dozen arrows of the second batch. The Woodies’ magical shield held up longer. Their defense fell away after the third round. Personal amulets took over. Both sides sustained fatalities, and people were wounded. Humans and elves were blown to bits and maimed by shrapnel and stones. The School military forces saved a large number of mages, even if they were still mages-in-training, because it was able to put up a second shield after the losses they incurred by using a lot of personal defense amulets. They patched the defense zones together and created extra layers. Both portals closed from the arrows’ explosions.

  Andy got out of the heap of boulders and joined the School’s team.

  The elves broke formation, increased their speed and ran towards a narrow square of northerners. The restored magical shield also flashed in front of the Woodies. Knocking the Vikings down, they threw themselves at the Rauu. A bloodbath ensued.

  It wasn’t as feasible to use magic from a distance in the melee. Most warriors avoided it anyway because of the danger of killing or wounding their own comrades. His Awesomeness, Lord Sword, took the spotlight. It seemed unbelievable that several Vikings continued to hold on, with their resistance and two-handed fighters, disorganizing the enemy’s formation. Andy tore into the opening dragging several white-headed seniors along with him. They had to help the northerners disperse the Forest elves’ formation for good. Otherwise, they would be trampled and then they’d run down the rest with a joint formation. The archers from the Forest finished off their Orten School of Magic contemporaries; they had greater skill and an abundance of experience. The one good thing was that the explosive artifacts were all gone. The punishing mages’ every attempt to turn the tide of the battle through magic was cancelled out by the Forest mages’ active defenses. Meanwhile, they were attempting to reestablish the portal through which the evacuation of the noble elves had gone unfinished. Now the student mages were completely blocking any chance of coordinate referencing.

  Pulling a second blade out of his “pocket” in addition to the elvish one, Andy hurried up. His melding with the astral was completed in an instant. Now I’ll show you, freaks! You’ll get what you deserve. Beat them down!! Ducking under a spear, he practically sprawled himself out on the ground and jabbed upward with his sword at the first elf, who hadn’t lowered his shield in time. The next Woody got stabbed in the face through the open part of his helmet. There was a splash of energy. Two lightning bolts ripped loose from his hands. He wasn’t afraid to use magic in melee combat. More lightning. The Rauu ran in to the opening. The world around him faded away. Andy slashed and stabbed, beat others down, and deflected his enemies’ strikes, wielded spells and lightning. The Vikings doubled down after him, then the Rauu and the “punishers” in tow. The Woody formation failed. The battle broke up into individual combat clusters. The School portal opened again with a crack and a river of Hag Tur Seaman’s hirdmen poured out, clad in iron. A couple of booming explosions came from the staircase.

  The chaotic streams of battle carried Andy towards the drop to the river, where he encountered Frida face to face. But his thrill from meeting her didn’t last long. A fireball came flying in from the direction of the Forest mages and hit the vampire’s armor directly. The girl was thrown towards the rocks like a broken doll. Her ribs stuck out from her chest through the shredded armor.

  “AAAAAHHHH! Fridaaaaaaaaaaa! I’ll kill you!” Andy roared going into a rage. His wings spread out on his back….

  *****

  Melima could no longer remember how long she’d been swinging her swordーmaybe five minutes, maybe an hour, maybe a day. Her sense of time evaporated. Only the desire that this be over with and the desire to survive remained. She was prepared to survive at any cost, to survive for one purpose. The goddesses only knew how many humans and Rauu had already died because of that filthy mongrel. She had to survive and kill him herself. Forgive me, Frida. Her great-grandfather Beriem had committed a colossally stupid mistake by declaring a general assembly and sending them to die for the sake of that mix. What was so special about him? Clenching her teeth in anger, she struggled to fight off the Woody, clad in a green cloak, who’d set upon her. The vampire was fighting beside her. She turned out to be an incredible warrior and had already saved Melima from certain death more than once. It happened that they were together throughout the battle and were fighting back to back.

  The Woody suddenly lurched forward. The tip of someone’s sword stuck through his chest, and his mouth filled with blood. The vampire’s enemy’s head was cut off, and it certainly wasn’t Frida who’d taken it. The mix stood in front of them, grasping a sword in each hand, his blue eyes shining with bright yellow vertical pupils. He was covered in others’ and his own blood and tattered rags instead of clothes.

  “Kerr!” Frida exclaimed happily and threw herself at him.

  Melima didn’t see where the fireball came from that hit the vampire. The mix’s face contorted with grief and rage.

  “AAAAAHHHH! Fridaaaaaaaaaaa! I’ll kill you!” Kerr roared, and turned towards the Forest elves. At some point, the fighting stopped. The cry of horror that was ready to come out died away in Melima’s throat. The mix was changing quickly. His face was covered with scales and became elongated. Claws appeared on his fingers. Then a fog covered him, and in the next moment, an ancient monster appeared through the fog. A dragon. He was a real dragon!

  *****

  “What was he like? Tell me again,” Miduel asked for the nth time. Melima obediently began describing the dragon.

  “He was big, the size of a covered van or merchant’s tent.” (Here the girl was exaggerating a little without knowing it. The dragon was smaller than that, but fear makes things look bigger.) “About twenty paces long, from his nose to the tip of his tail. His scales were very pretty, mostly gold, with small notches. He had designs of blue, green and black scales woven in throughout his body like a colorful tattoo. The design was kind of like an org
anic ornament, like a plant vine, all in whorls and alternating colors, large lines and leaves interspersed with golden scales. The breast was wide, with two black stripes symmetrically down the left and right sides. The scales were very large there, diamond-shaped and very solid, you could tell by looking at it. Then the stripes go up his neck to his snout, and from the horns, they turn back down towards his eyes. His eyes were blue with yellow pupil slits. His head was tapered like a horse head, with two horns pointed back. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of his teeth, they were as long as a finger at least.” Melima sighed and continued, “Along his spine all the scales were serrated. When the sun fell on his back, it was like little rainbows glistening. It was beautiful.”

  “And his wings? What were the wings like?”

  “Colored like the scaly design pattern, with a few clear inserts, like a dragonfly’s wings. They break up rays of light into little rainbows too. It’s nice. It was beautiful… now only scraps are left,” Vistamel answered out of turn, butting into the conversation. He was cradling the stump of his left arm, cut off at the elbow. Now he would have to learn to use his right hand for three or four months, no less. He would have to wait until the new limb grew out, then spend another couple of months developing the new limb.

  “And you know, that smell,” Melima wanted to go on, but the old elf cut her off.

  “I know. The boy smells like spring and lilies.” The girl nodded mechanically. The boy was a monster who tore the Woodies to pieces with his teeth, but he was a beautiful monster, graceful and frightening, although Miduel had mentioned earlier that he hadn’t yet reached his full size. He was an adolescent. “Please tell me again everything that happened.”

  Melima closed her eyes in fatigue and once again immersed herself in her recent memories reliving the battle.

  *****

  “Frida!” the monster called out, and leaned over the vampire’s body. “No!”

  The dragon scratched his wrist with his right claw and propped up the girl’s head. He tried to pour his dark blood into her mouth; it didn’t help. It would have been easier to make a wooden doll drink. He poured his dragon’s blood all over her face and wounded chest.

  The battle subsided. All their opponents stared in awe at what was happening near the drop to the river. Something incredible had just happened in front of hundreds of witnesses. The ancient legend about were-dragons had come to life before their eyes. As usual, the Woodies snapped out of it first.

  “Kill the dragoooon!” one of the Forest mages screamed to the entire battlefield, setting the entire mass of elvish and human enemies in motion. The battle resumed with redoubled force.

  When the Woodies saw their ancient enemy, they went insane. They threw themselves at their opponents with hatred burning in their eyes and made their way through the combat towards the drop off. As they butchered their way towards the dragon, the Forest elves looked just like the northern berserksーmuscles bulging, eyes burning, foam on their lips, and consumed by incredible rage. They had cultivated hatred for dragons over the course of thousands of years in the Forest, which now had an outlet in their insanity on the battlefield.

  Several powerful fireballs went flying from the elven mages towards the dragon. Leaving the girl’s body in peace, the dragon stood up on its hind legs and opened its wings. Against the backdrop of the setting sun, tiny rainbows sparkled through the translucent parts. The fireballs didn’t reach their target. They exploded against an invisible barrier of some sort. The shockwave from the impact threw several dozen humans and elves to the ground. Roaring with a blast and folding its wings, the dragon set at the very epicenter of the battle. Stones and pebbles flew out from under its clawed feet.

  “I’ll kill you!” it said, along with some incomprehensible words in some strange language.

  The first elf died from a powerful blow of the clawed paw, which tore him to uneven shreds in his armor. The second and third were bit in half one after the other in the horrible mouth lined with sharp, three-inch, backwards-pointing teeth. Those who decided it was safer in the back and that they could attack the dragon from behind had played the wrong card. The double bone plates on the dragon’s tail each tipped to one side, forming something like a flat two-sided blade and turning the extra appendage into a dangerous weapon. One sweep of the tail easily mowed down several dare-devils who’d decided to peek under the dragon’s tail. They of course regretted it, but it was too late. A few minutes later most of the elves were drawn to their battle with the bloodthirsty monster. The Vikings, “punishers” and Rauu didn’t risk going near the horrifying beast as it massacred the Woodies.

  Seizing his chance, one of the Forest mages let a fireball fly right into the dragon’s chest followed by an “ice spear” and a “stone battering ram.” The dragon was knocked down on its back and was missing a few chest plates. Its side was doused in fresh dark blood and one of the membranes on its right wing was torn. The monster let out an angry, ear-splitting roar. Jumping to its feet, the dragon stuck out its flexible neck. Powerful flames exploded from its mouth. More than twelve Woodies turned into screaming living torches. One careless mage took the main force of the blowtorch. He was burnt up instantly like so much dry hay. Busy with one mage, the dragon let the rest out of its sight, who didn’t miss the opportunity to strike at it from behind. A few strong combat interweaves and spells hit the monster almost simultaneously. It managed at the last second to throw up a magical shield. The first fireball melted on the shield. The second one pierced the shield and blew up on the dragon’s folded wings, turning them to bloody rags. He could forget about flying away for a while. The third blow threw the dragon to the ground and pushed it along the surface for several yards, scraping off the scales on its side. A bloody stripe was left on the ground.

  The elves didn’t have time to finish the dragon off. Rector Etran stepped through the portal, surrounded by the professors of the School. A shield that was up in an instant protected the wounded beast from additional “presents” from the Woodies. The dragon managed to stand up. Kerr, who had gotten a hold of himself, showed them all that it was early yet to count him out. Something strange was happening to him. The dragon’s aura twinkled with red and black sparks of hatred and the desire to kill and then suddenly lit up like a little sun. In two beats of his heart, the aura became as it was before, and a small lake of lava bubbled where the squadron of elvish mages had been.

  Total silence ensued on the shooting range. It was broken by the ring of a sword falling to the ground, followed by many such sounds. The Woodies surrendered.

  The dragon was a frightful sight. Not a trace of his former beauty remained. It was covered in blood, its own and others’, small scraps of its flight membranes were dragging on the ground, and its left side was missing half the scales and shining with deep jagged wounds. It wasn’t possible to tell whether its right eye was intact or not through the huge scab that covered it. The left one opposite was shining with blue fire. Black blood leaked from its nostrils. Stumbling with all four legs, it walked towards the edge of the drop to the river, where Melima was sitting on a wide flat boulder holding the vampire’s head on her lap. Fingering their matted black hair, the Vikings and the Rauu moved out of his way without a word.

  Kerr suddenly saw something on the ground and stopped. There was someone lying face down on the ground. Turning the body in a green elvish cloak face-up with his left paw, Kerr grinned with satisfaction. Melima got a cold shiver from a grin like that. It didn’t mean anything good for the elf on the ground.

  “Aah, Nirel! You’re alive! Were you playing dead? Did you think I’d forget about you?” Kerr rumbled, and raised his deadly paw.

  “Nooo, don’t….” Kerr struck. The savory slap on the head cut his cry short. Nirel’s head was cut in two and the brains fell out. They led the dragon off to the side after this; they thought he would collapse, but he didn’t. He kept his balance.

  Turning her eyes from the gory sight, Melima saw the School mages an
d professors who had formed a chain and were weaving a magical “voluminous snaring net” capable of holding ten rabid elephants. It was obvious from the first glance who they were intending to hunt.

  “No, don’t!” she repeated the words of the freshly killed Woody henchman. Through her strained throat, the words only came out with difficulty, wheezy and gurgling.

  Kerr saw Melima looking behind him and turned to see what she was looking at. His left eye lit up with a frantic fire and… the dragon threw himself over the drop off. The net they’d been building came down on an empty space.

  “Forgive me, Fr…,” Melima heard as Kerr fell. The sound of the body hitting the water swallowed up the rest of the phrase. The dragon sunk down under the water. His head popped up for a short instant again in the middle of the river.

  “Which of you idiots thought of capturing the dragon??” Rector Etran flew at the mages. Before that she’d been tying up the captive “woody” mages with the Vikings and had missed the amateur initiative of her subordinates. “Where can we find him now? Cretins!”