Jon and Twarda maneuvered toward the first drake that landed just as Serifel launched himself toward the second one at blazing speed, hurling himself through the air. It was an amazing sight for the little halfling to see the monk in action.
A third drake landed again in the ruins and Barnabus was off and charging it. The beast paid him no heed however. Instead, it raised its head and launched a torrent of flame toward Figit. He realized immediately that there was no way that he could escape its blast. He closed his eyes and shuddered.
Nothing happened.
He opened his eyes and saw a bubble of radiant energy around him. Beulah stood smiling at Figit and gave him a wink. He laughed heartily at her and thanked the gods he saved her earlier. At least now they were even.
Barnabus disappeared beneath the shadow of the drake and Figit caught glints of the steel double axe head swinging over and over again in the approaching sunlight.
Twarda and Jon were laying waste to the drake before them, now hidden deep within the shadows of the ruins. He could barely see them, but overheard the grunts and sounds associated with Twarda's fighting and he saw Jon Veinslay briefly as he summoned holy vengeance upon the drake.
Another two drakes made effort to land but were sent skyward once more as Sinadow continued to fire magical bolts of energy, denying the drakes any ground upon which to land. He seemed to be relentless in his assault, never tiring, and he witnessed the elf’s spectral cat sitting on her haunches loyally beside the archer.
It was then that Figit spotted a plentiful volley of arrows invading the skyline, originating from the opposite side of the ruins. Sinadow looked to Figit and waved from across the battlefield, indicating that help had arrived. It was his elven kin, the elves of Amrel, coming to their aid!
Figit nodded and breathed a sigh of hopeful relief. They needed support now more than ever because as the sky brimmed with sunlight, Figit could scarcely perceive the blue behind the scaly red that dominated the space.
He climbed atop a ruined structure quite easily, its jagged surfaces giving him ample handholds, and he watched, waiting for a chance to leap atop a drake if his companions managed to direct one toward him.
He glanced all around and his eyes widened as he saw Serifel the monk hovering in midair, striking one drake with foot and fist, faster than the eye could follow. The beast never had a chance as it feebly attempted to strike him with both claw and fire, but was unable to penetrate a globe of solid energy that surrounded him. Figit could not even follow the strikes as it became a blur of motion. The monk suddenly stopped and placed his hands together as a blast of thunderous force burst forth from him. It blasted the drake full in its head and chest, dropping it to the ground, a now-lifeless husk. The monk floated slowly to the ground, still encased in the bubble, until he landed and it vanished. Serifel rushed off again to no doubt lend aid to the others.
Jon and Twarda, whom he could see clearly from his vantage point, had reduced one drake to a bloodstained cadaver as they moved to engage another.
The battlefield was crimson everywhere he looked, smeared with both blood and scales. It was a gruesome sight as the lifeless drakes melded with the ruined edifices that lay in pieces all around, making it seem like some kind of preposterous landscape born of nightmares.
Drakes were falling in droves and Figit’s heart sang with elation, believing that they were making progress...or so he hoped.
It was then that another stranger entered the battlefield. Figit turned to regard an ominously dressed figure in flowing robes of black.
It was a man he believed, based on the fact that he was bald and a long scruff of hair hung loosely from his chin that looked to disappear into the darkness of his mantle.
He also noted that either the man was extremely thick beneath his robes or he bore a layer of dense armor beneath his outer garments.
It was then that he donned a helm that resembled a skull and as the wind blew aside his robe, Figit could see the thick frame of what could only be armor in the shade of black.
He wondered just then if things got better or worse.
Triniach watched as the dead drake splashed into the Shimmering Lake below and he gritted his teeth. He paid no heed to the clouds above him as they recurrently sent bolts of lightning at whatever drake passed beneath them.
Another advanced his way and then another. They seemed as though they were biding their time for some reason, he supposed, only attacking a few at a time. It was an observation that he could not ignore, yet which he had no time to give much thought. A third and then a fourth of the giant wyrms proceeded toward him too and he set his jaw, meaning to avenge the death of his fallen companion and fellow mage.
He mouthed a spell, still floating within his Sphere of Protection and a blast of frosty cold burst forth from his body, enveloping all of the drakes in one major blast, icing over all four of them simultaneously. He watched in delight as they plummeted to the lake below and whose surface had turned to a sheet of ice for as far as the eye could see in every direction. It was not a by-product of his icy blast, he knew, and wondered where it had come from.
Then he saw Azbiel again, standing on top of the frozen lake and launching himself into the sky as the frozen drakes crashed and then shattered against the unforgiving surface of ice.
"Now I’m pissed," Azbiel said to him as his body faded from sight and became incorporeal. His eyes turned to a shade of red and shone brightly as his ethereal body went limp, hovering there in midair. Triniach watched a drake that passed by, its eyes mirroring the very same red glow as the sorcerer’s.
The drake immediately shifted in midflight and dove at another of its kin, landing on top of it. It launched a series of clawed strikes and used its teeth to bite into the scaled flesh behind its neck, tearing out a rather sizeable piece. The victim fell helplessly to the icy lake below as that same drake attacked another.
"That seems like a good idea," Triniach mentioned to the empty air as he realized that Azbiel had possessed the drake and made it his own vessel of destruction.
Triniach followed suit.
This newest pawn in the game strode right up to a drake that had just landed on the far side of the ruins of Shalratha, several hundred paces from them. Figit could see him well in the light of dawn now, especially with his gifted vision.
The man launched a jade-hued wave of some kind of magic—Figit couldn’t tell what—into the drake. The wave of energy swept over it and the drake jerked its head violently, going into spasms for several moments before falling lifelessly to the ground.
The man looked around and made his way toward them. He seemed to pick up his pace once he caught sight of both he and Serifel. The monk tensed suddenly, motioning as if he were going to attack him, but Figit held his arm and shook his head.
"Let's see what he wants first,” he advised. “He killed a drake, so he might be on our side."
Serifel merely frowned. "He has the markings of the god of death."
Figit shrugged. "I don’t much care. As long as he isn’t covered in scales, it doesn’t matter to me, eh?"
Serifel rolled his eyes at that comment, scanned the battlefield and ran off, leaving a very curious halfling behind.
Triniach jumped out of his vessel just as two of its kin were clawing at it and had the possessed drake pinned between them in midair. Azbiel's drake was still fighting and so the mage felt himself falling back into his body, which was safely hidden within the ethereal plane.
As soon as his mind connected with his body, he found himself on the surface of the frozen lake. He immediately ascended into the sky, levitating with but a simple word and grasping his staff in both hands.
As several more drakes nearby noted the mage, they immediately made their way toward him. He invoked a Sphere of Protection once more and as they neared, three of them now, he unleashed a blast of arcane borne projectiles that connected with all three of the drakes. It was a magnificent display of pure arcane might and it downed all thre
e of them.
The sky was beginning to clear slightly and Azbiel appeared on the ground below him, his possessed drake apparently dead or dying too.
"That was fun," he mentioned as he quickly joined Triniach in the sky and ran a hand through his hair.
"Look out!" Azbiel said, shoving the mage aside as Triniach floated past him. He turned to regard a rather large drake encroaching on them silently. Azbiel fired a beam of black-green origin past Triniach that struck the incoming drake and enveloped it in that same sickening hue. Nothing was left behind but a faint glow as the drake faded into oblivion.
"Thanks," Triniach said, nodding his head in appreciation.
"I wouldn’t be overly excited. All I did was prolong the inevitable."
He looked away from Triniach and headed into the sky just as another swarm of drakes came into view from behind the clouds in the distance.
Triniach sighed at that announcement and felt that perhaps the mage spoke truly.
The ground force--as Figit was calling it now--was all but finished with dispatching of the drakes that had until recently occupied the ruins outer edges. And the elves of Amrel had moved a bit closer to join Sinadow and his cat. They formed a veritable wall of bowmen standing out in the open, nearing the Shimmering Lake’s southern edge. He hoped they would stick around.
They had a brief respite from the fight as Figit looked skyward to observe both of the sorcerers hovering in the sky with its approaching dawn. The lake was a mostly-frozen wasteland and the ground was cluttered with dozens of dead scorching drakes of all sizes. It looked absurd to Figit who shook his head in disbelief of it all.
Both Morgrim and Beulah were tending to various wounds on Jon, Barnabus and on Twarda, who was completely trapped beneath the paw of a drake briefly, until Barnabus hacked that paw clean off.
Figit watched Serifel move off alone to sit on the roof of a half-broken building and close his eyes. It appeared as if he were deep in meditation.
"I am here to help, halfling. I have nowhere left to go and my god desires me to grant him the lives of my enemies or myself in this struggle."
"Cheery," Figit said, stifling a chuckle, as the man removed his helm. "You’re not from around here, are you?"
“Where I am from is of no import.” The man looked at him with wide dark eyes, his demeanor unflinching. "I am a servant of The Reaper."
"And I'm a servant of my own desires...usually. This is different than what I'm used to, though. There’s never been a better time to choose a god, I suppose. I’m still undecided," Figit responded with his hands on his hips. "I'm Figit. That distrusting monk over there is Serifel and he's none too pleased to meet ya. The rest of the group is over there," he said pointing to them.
The majority of the group was on the outskirts of Shalratha's ruins still. Most of the ground around them was charred black by fire and the ruins were reflective of a similar state, showing marks that resembled the ground around them.
"I am Bain," said the priest, replacing the skull helm on his head. The others wandered over to them, warily at first.
"We're not e'en able ta give Coles a proper burial," sobbed Beulah, her eyes moist with tears.
"Who be this?!" barked Barnabus curtly, adjusting his dented helm and dismissing the dwarven priest's sentiment.
"He be a worshipper of death," stated Morgrim. "I be knowin' all about them skulls and their meanin'," he added with a certain accusation or distrust in his tone, Figit could not tell which.
"Well, he ain’t here ta kill us...right?" Figit asked with his hands out wide. The man shook his head side to side in agreement of that.
"That's reassuring," called Serifel from behind them, evidently finished with his meditation.
"We've got incoming drakes." Figit pointed to the horizon and more of the red scaled dragons filled the skyline with their wings and tails.
The beasts dove straight toward them and the two mages who yet hovered in the sky just as a volley of arrows greeted them, originating from the horde of elves in the distance. They brought down one after the other, arrow shafts protruding from them enough that they reminded Figit of a hideously scaled porcupine.
"Back to it!" Barnabus yelled. Twarda slapped her shield over and over again in agreement as they raced off toward an area where four drakes managed to land unscathed.
"Here we go again," Figit said, racing after them all.
Triniach looked to Azbiel and leaned in to him. "I say we introduce these dragons to the chill of the frozen north."
Azbiel nodded. "You got it. Besides, the ice on the river is starting to melt."
With that, both wizards held out their hands, Triniach still maintaining his staff, as they mouthed the words in unison. With each word, clouds began to roll in from as far as the eye could see, blotting out the sun. Within seconds, snow began to fall once more just as Azbiel had done earlier to great effect. But this time, the sorcerer had the power of Triniach to bolster the storm’s intensity.
Triniach scanned the sky watching the drakes screech in protest. Another minute passed and the snow quickly heightened as an icy hail rained down upon them all. The winds began to pick up, its chilly gale blustering loudly and with great force, sending many of the drakes reeling out of control. Several more drakes fell under the sheer onslaught of ice and sleet.
Triniach continued the spell and felt a sense of tranquility overwhelm him as he felt the wintry gusts of the wind brush upon his skin, raising goose pimples on his flesh beneath his clothing. But, before long, the landscape around them darkened even more, but it was not from the clouds. Triniach did not know what to make of the sudden darkness and glanced around to discover the source.
Suddenly, his stomach felt hollow and he held his breath unwillingly as a beast the size of which he'd never seen before, burst through the clouds, casting its own dark shadow over the land. A spray of fire caught both he and Azbiel in its wake and the wizard barely had time to throw up a protective barrier. Even so, the blast sent him tumbling away and he felt the heat as if the sun itself was thrust upon him—even through the Sphere of Protection!
With that, his concentration waned and it was barely enough to keep him aloft. The blizzard began to fade and he could no longer see Azbiel. What he did see was the largest dragon he'd ever seen—perhaps Wothlondia had ever seen. It was a dragon that was possibly the size of a small mountain. Its wingspan was as far as the eye could see in both directions.
Triniach noted that this drake was not only the largest, but it was different in other ways, too. Its markings were notably different than the rest of the drakes that he’d seen. Its scales were sleeker somehow.
That’s when the drake landed upon the surface. It sat on its haunches and in doing so Triniach could see the underside of its claws clearly. He noted that the bottoms of its front claws as well as the tips of those claws were of a light, silvery gray shade, which stood out against the crimson of its scales.
Ash, he confirmed. It was different than all of the other drakes he'd seen to this point, not only in size, but its demeanor, look and size.
Then suddenly, the massive drake flapped its wings once and was airborne again. It circled around the remains of the village and flew around the lake's edge before making the wide turn back. With one flap of its wings, it propelled itself across the entire town's ruins, ending at the opposite side.
Triniach stared intently at the village more closely and noted something of interest. There were many huge eggs lying tucked away amongst the ruins at the far end of the village, he realized, seeing them for the first time himself. Beulah had mentioned something about them earlier, but he never had time to follow up with her about them before the drakes attacked. He also noted that in this particular area, the soil seemed warmer. It was more than a feeling.
Then it all clicked for him.
“She is very angry with us, I’d have to say,” Triniach stated taking in a deep breath.
“Why’s that?” Figit asked him.
&nbs
p; “I am recalling that Beulah mentioned something about seeing eggs earlier?” Triniach stood silently and pointed to many egg-shaped shells that looked like they could have a full grown human encased within them. They were dark and blended within their surroundings, perhaps an innate defense mechanism, he guessed, but he wasn’t sure.
Figit looked around and his eyes widened and his expression was of wonder or disbelief.
“These are her children. That massive dragon is their mother.
She is Ashenclaw.”
“Frag. That ain’t good. How we gonna kill her?”
“That is a good question, my diminutive chum. A good question, indeed.”
"So...it’s a she?"
"Aye," he nodded confidently.
"Makes sense. So…yer thinkin’ she's protecting her young?" Triniach simply nodded and looked to the floor. “That why the ground feels so hot?”
Before Triniach could even give that theory any consideration, a roar filled the air around them, deafening them as they all moved to cover their ears. The other drakes that had been hovering in the air or engaged with the elves on the opposite side of the plains all took to the air and scattered, as if responding to Ashenclaw. Triniach watched in awe as the creatures all disappeared. He wasn’t sure if they were all here children, her mates or a mixture of both, but they certainly listened to her.
Their queen, he concluded with a nod.
"She may not hurt her children if we threaten to harm them,” suggested Jon Veinslay.
“I don’t think that’s the best strategy either,” Triniach suggested.
Azbiel nodded his agreement, too. "Not sure if that is the case. She' probably got other nests of eggs all over Wothlondia."
Before they could ponder the subject any further, the drake known as Ashenclaw took to the air and was upon them with one flap of her wings. Morgrim and Beulah immediately threw up their shields of solid radiant light.
The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) Page 84
