by Isaac Hooke
Mauritania, stay close to those Blacks, he sent. Wait for my signal.
The half Eldritch promptly turned her Blue around, and headed for the two Blacks, and the Blue Hornets accosting them.
Malem switched back to his own viewpoint, and gazed forward once more. Ahead, the gargoyle swarm arrived.
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The Blacks among the Blue Hornets breathed acid, while the Blues unleashed their ice breath. The gargoyles were nimble, however, and often dodged those attacks. When the gargoyles got closer, they weren’t able to dodge the quick mouths of the dragons as often: the Blues and Blacks snapped at the smaller, humanoid-sized creatures, sometimes swallowing them, other times merely biting off pieces.
With their taloned appendages, the dragons also grabbed at any of the winged creatures that tried to skirt past underneath, and crushed and impaled them; when the dragons released them, the crumpled, useless bodies plunged to their dooms.
Those gargoyles that avoided the breath, claws and teeth of the dragons focused on the riders, who used whatever weapons available to them to strike at the gargoyles, be it magic, bows, or blades. Two or three usually assaulted a rider at the same time, so if the person in the saddle wasn’t quick, he or she would soon find themselves dead.
As those gargoyles filtered through the ranks of the Blue Hornets, Malem began to Break the weaker-minded among their outskirts. They used three slots each. It was draining work, and he could barely sit in the saddle after Breaking five of them. He resisted the temptation to steal the stamina from his teammates.
Now, Mauritania, he sent.
He had lent the half Eldritch Balethorn for the mission. He doubted the sword would do much damage, but raw stopping power wasn’t entirely his intent.
Mauritania swooped her Blue toward the closest Black, and then became a green streak that traveled rapidly toward the enemy. She re-materialized on its back, between its wings.
She stabbed the blade down between its shoulder blades.
The dragon screamed in pain. It was a stentorian, terrible peal, traveling up and down the ranks. Even Denfidal, in the distance, looked over his shoulders when that scream reached the Balor’s ears.
Black mist erupted from the dragon’s torso, and the deadly magic darted toward her. But Mauritania withdrew the blade and raced across its bare back, avoiding the magic. She struck again. And again.
The stamina inside her rose in leaps and bounds, and Malem drew it from her, replenishing himself, and sharing the excess with his companions.
Malem Broke another five of the weakest gargoyles, for a total of ten, and once more slumped in the saddle.
The huge Black still hadn’t been able to shake Mauritania, and she had stabbed her sword twice more since the last he’d checked, drawing still more stamina. Black mist was coming at her in such thick profusion, that he didn’t think she’d be able to avoid the deadly magic for much longer.
Malem Broke a final five gargoyles.
Mauritania hadn’t been able to get in another strike as that black magic came at her, and instead leaped onto the tail to avoid the deadly ribbons.
Malem, feeling very weak, commanded all fifteen of the gargoyles to fly directly to Hastor, with instructions to stay as far away as possible from other Blues and Blacks until they arrived.
See that cluster of gargoyles in the arrow formation? Malem sent his companions. Those are mine. Spread the word.
And so they did, and the news was passed down the ranks; Malem’s gargoyles were left alone.
At last the huge Black managed to shake Mauritania with its dark magic, and she had to leap off the tail to escape it. As she fell, she got in a final parting blow, stabbing Balethorn into its leg; the blade cut a long, vertical gash into the muscle as she plunged, and opened up half the leg, causing the blood to spurt all over her.
Mauritania teleported back to her circling Blue before the Black could swat her, and Malem fed upon this recent boost of stamina she’d taken, restoring his endurance, and then wrapped his mind around the dragon. The attacks had weakened it severely, and Malem was able to tighten his will around the creature’s mind. The Black struggled in his grasp, but as the monster continued to bleed out, it weakened, and Malem Broke it at a cost of fourteen slots.
The dragon continued to flag, the leg wound causing severe blood loss.
“Heal this one,” Malem ordered Weyanna. She swooped back to obey.
The White arrived, and sent tendrils of cloudy mist into the wounds, and in a short time she had healed it.
Malem fed Weyanna stamina, and the Black, too, giving back some of the endurance Balethorn had stolen. But even with the added stamina, the dragon was still slow. That said, he did sense it growing in strength rapidly, regenerating its lost blood far faster than one of his own dragons would. He doubted the healing rate was natural—the dragon was probably still endowed with whatever magical buffs Denfidal had applied.
The Black flew at about the same speed as the burdened Nemertes, and so he instructed it to join the great Blue to act as her personal bodyguard.
Well, lookee here, Nemertes said when the dragon came alongside. You’ve gifted me a mate? Aw, you shouldn’t have. I bet he’s nice and big in the places where it counts though! It takes a huge dragon to satisfy me these days…
I thought you weren’t sexually active? Gannet said.
That’s because I can’t find a male big enough… Nemertes retorted. She turned toward the Black. What are you called, Baby?
Notcher, the Black replied.
Notch? Nemertes said. That’s right, you’re going to be another notch in my belt, hun.
Notcher! the Black repeated.
Notch, Notcher, what’s the difference? Nemertes said. When I’m screaming your name while taking you atop my treasure hoard, I’m sure you won’t care if I miss a few letters.
The gargoyles began to reach the central core where he and his companions resided, and they attacked him and the others in orchestrated waves, ignoring the outlying dragons. Some of the gargoyles got through the talons and claws of the Metals and Blues his team rode, and Malem was forced to use his non-magical sword to defend himself. Gwen protected him and Grendel with arrows from Wasp, while Mauritania launched the Green Rot. Wendolin often caused branches to grow from the wooden shafts of those arrows, and impaled two or more gargoyles at the same time.
When Malem’s gargoyles arrived, Gwen accidentally shot down one of them before he could stop her.
They’re mine, he sent on the telepathic band he shared with his bound companions.
Sorry, Gwen returned.
He crushed the falling gargoyle’s will entirely before it could die, in order to avoid the debilitating severing effect that would come when that happened.
Meanwhile, the remaining winged humanoids took up defensive positions around him and Grendel, and protected the pair against attacks from any further gargoyles that penetrated the defensive sphere formed by his companions. In essence, the gargoyles became his personal airborne guard.
Nemertes wasn’t free from harassment either, and she too, had to deal with the winged humanoids that accosted her. Notcher was only able to keep away so many, and Nemertes had to deal with some that came in from underneath, and others directly above; when they reached her scales, they appeared to be trying to cut the ropes that bound the sword to her; Nemertes was constantly having to swat these latter away, either with her tail, or her jaws.
You okay down there? he asked.
She was chewing, and snatched up and gobbled down another gargoyle as he watched. Just fine. Never hurts to get in a late lunch. Bastards are a bit bony to my tastes, but hey, sometimes you dine on filet mignon, other times you chow on brown cow.
What’s brown cow? Gwen asked
You don’t want to know, Nemertes replied.
It’s cow intestines with feces still inside them, Weyanna explained.
Yum, Gwen said.
Told you, you wouldn’t want to know, Nemertes said,
snatching up another gargoyle.
A gargoyle darted through the defenses ahead. This one carried a white staff of some kind, and before it reached Malem’s personal guard, it began to swirl the weapon, rapidly. The ends began to glow a bright purple, and they trailed mist of a similar color. The mist increased with such profusion that soon the entire staff was enveloped in it.
Magic user! Abigail said.
Before the gargoyle mage could release whatever magic it was summoning, ribbons of green cut into the creature, forming deep trenches. Swirls of light also came in from Nemertes below, and its body imploded. The staff plunged from view.
Moron, Mauritania said. If he wanted to use his magic, he should have been subtle about it.
But then another gargoyle came in, also with a staff, which was already swirling when the creature arrived. From the tip erupted a powerful vortex of purple mist, headed directly for Malem and Grendel.
Dive! Malem ordered Hastor.
Tendrils of light curled around the creature’s feet, and yanked it downward before causing its body to implode like the last gargoyle.
Meanwhile, the powerful vortex cut a swath through Hastor’s previous position above; one of Malem’s gargoyles was in its path, and when the vortex struck, the winged humanoid disintegrated.
Malem leaned far forward in the saddle, feeling the severing keenly. He forced himself to sit upright again, and crushed the will of another one of his gargoyles; the creature dropped from view and Malem felt better immediately.
“You all right?” Grendel shouted into his ear.
“Fine now!” he told her.
Hastor’s dive had taken the dragon to a position directly above Nemertes. The Black was so close it could have landed on the Blue, if it wanted.
The three lead Reds from Vorgon’s army were approaching attack range. Nemertes suddenly began swatting at something underneath her. Malem couldn’t quite see what it was from his current angle.
He momentarily switched to her point of view.
Wind elementals had appeared below Nemertes, apparently summoned by the Reds. They looked like whirlwinds of dust, with ghostly eyes at their centers and cloud-like arms protruding from either side. The elementals swirled faster and faster as they followed the motion of Nemertes, sucking out the air beneath her so that she began to plummet.
Nemertes swatted at the wind elementals, which matched her descent, but her limbs went right through the entities. Besides her, Notcher was experiencing a similar predicament, beset by wind elementals of his own.
“Get away from me, fuckers!” she roared.
She launched ribbons of light magic at them. The bright tendrils entered the vortex-like shapes of each elemental, where they seemed to swirl harmlessly around; however, Nemertes continued to pour light into them, more and more, until all three whirlwinds glowed a bright yellow. And then, just like that, the elementals imploded, ceasing to exist.
Notcher dealt with his wind elementals in a similar manner, using dark magic instead of light, which had the effect of dispersing the whirlwind bodies once the entities absorbed enough of the black tendrils.
Malem returned to his viewpoint.
Nemertes had dropped to the level of the Stilt Walker ahead, and was struggling to regain her former altitude. She was already weak from carrying the sword, but the magic had put her over her limit, and she was having trouble recovering.
Malem fed her stamina, taking liberally from Gwen and Mauritania, and also Notcher, and Nemertes slowly returned to her former height. Notcher accompanied her the entire way. Malem had Hastor climb as well, since the Black had dropped to avoid the gargoyle mage.
Malem couldn’t see the three Reds around him, so he searched for them on his beast sense. Ordinarily, such powerful creatures would have stood out readily, but they were almost lost to the background noise of gargoyles and Blue Hornets, and he had to concentrate for a moment before he found them.
There: above. When he glanced that way, he saw the Metals had engaged them, two per Red. Abigail and Weyanna wrestled one of them, while Sylfi and Brita breathed red flames against the purple fire of their foe. Gannet was held in the clutches of the third Red, while Solan attempted to bite into the enemy’s neck.
Gargoyles continued to assail the remaining companions around Malem, their waves seeming endless. The winged humanoids he had drafted into his service protected him so that he had yet to draw blood again with his replacement sword. Grendel hadn’t had to use her own magic yet, either, and hopefully that wouldn’t change: she was supposed to be saving her energy for the summoning.
Behind! Gwen sent urgently. She turned her Blue around.
Malem spun Hastor around.
One of Denfidal’s huge Blacks was coming at Nemertes from the rear. Its jaws were open, and in moments it would rip into her tail.
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Blind it with your breaths! Malem instructed Hastor and Notcher, as neither dragon would be able to physically intercept the enemy in time.
The two dragons breathed acid toward the Black, targeting the eyes, but the creature shifted its head from side to side, avoiding the substance.
Nemertes, Malem sent. He shared his vision with her so she could see what was about to go down.
As the Black came within striking distance, Nemertes lifted her tail far back, waited a few seconds, and then swung it in a wide arc.
THWACK!
She struck the huge dragon directly in the head. From the way its face seemed to have partially caved, he knew she had crushed some bones. More than some.
The dragon’s wings were no longer flapping, and it arced downward. Nemertes had apparently knocked the monster senseless.
But it awakened an instant later, having plunged several hundred yards, and recovered before hitting the ground.
Notcher rammed into the dragon from above, slamming it downward, and the pair crashed into the earth, where they wrestled.
Malem tried to Break the stricken dragon, but it was too strong-willed and he couldn’t touch its mind. The only way to Break this particular creature would be to bring it inches from death. And by then, it would probably be too late to salvage the thing.
So, he moved on, letting the dragons wrestle.
Two Reds dropped to the ground; the belly of the first was slit open, and trailed intestines. The neck of the second was torn away. Sylfi and Brita finished off the third as he watched, ripping away its genitals and severing both wings before he could Break the creature. It too, plummeted.
As the Blue Hornets continued toward Denfidal’s main host, the dragons along the lower outskirts of the formation gave a wide berth to the lone Stilt Walker that approached on the plains below, but it didn’t help—that Stilt Walker launched a long tongue, like that of a frog, and wrapped it around a poor Black at the bottom of the formation and drew the creature into its suction-shaped mouth. Its screams echoed across the skies; the remaining Blue Hornets quickly moved out of range of the Stilt Walker, and it turned around, lumbering, to pursue. It was too slow to catch up.
Vorgon’s remaining three Red dragons approached the perimeter of the Blue Hornet formation.
I want ten Blues and ten Blacks to intercept those Reds, Malem told Nemertes.
She passed on the orders, calling out specific names, and when the commands reached the Blue and Blacks in question, they dove to intercept the Reds. Meanwhile, the main host continued onward.
Gargoyles continued to attack, but their numbers were quickly thinning. They simply were no match for the far more powerful dragons.
Malem searched for the remaining three Black dragons that had entered their midst, but couldn’t find their energy bundles. He glanced at the sky above and below: they were nowhere to be found. He had to assume that they had been felled by the Blue Hornets. Even creatures as powerful as they were could not hope to stand up to so many.
He sensed Notcher on the ground behind him, barely alive. Apparently the creature had won, because Malem couldn’t detect its opp
onent. Given how weak Notcher appeared to be, Malem decided it wasn’t worth it to lend stamina to the dragon: it needed healing. He wasn’t about to send Weyanna or other healers back to help it, and it was well out of the way of the incoming ground troops. So Malem released the creature from his service, so it could either heal on its own, or die in peace.
Denfidal was quickly coming up ahead.
Malem reached out to the Metals. Fly low.
The six Metals bound to him descended, moving toward the bottom of the formation and then leaving it entirely to skim above the ground below. Malem was expecting the demon’s anti-dragon magic to hit at any time. Well, he supposed anti-transform was a more accurate term, in their case, since the True dragons would remain unaffected.
And then it finally happened. Just like that all six dragons shrunk, changing back into humans in midair, and dropping the short distance to the ground. He detected momentary spikes in pain from their energy bundles.
Oof! Abigail sent.
Everyone all right? he asked. The pain he sensed from their bundles was quickly subsiding, and he couldn’t detect any serious injuries among them. However, Weyanna was there to heal them if anyone was too badly hurt.
We’re fine, Abigail replied. Good thing we decided to fly low, expecting this.
They were naked down there, save for the large saddles that they’d shrugged off after landing. They had brought gear and clothing inside the bags of those saddles, but nothing magical—that gear was merely a backup, in case they couldn’t change back.
Sylfi was running in the opposite direction, away from Denfidal, and she announced a moment later: The anti-transform zone ends here!
The others grabbed swords and bows from their gear, but otherwise remained naked as they shouted taunts and catcalls at the dark host at Denfidal’s feet. Several of the enemy’s ground troops had already broken away to intercept them, but now more joined them, thanks to those taunts. It would be some time before they arrived, given the distance. The Metals had ample opportunity to retreat to Sylfi’s position; when the ground troops got closer, Abigail, Sylfi and the others would promptly transform back into dragons, and lay waist to the incoming enemies. At least that was the plan.
