by Isaac Hooke
Interesting.
That meant she was learning to mask her emotions from him.
He felt no such masking from Abigail and Weyanna, however, whose emotions were plain in his mind: a mixture of anger and remorse. And something deeper, something… yes, that was hatred. Not for Vorgon.
But for him.
If they must hate me so that I can please the master, then so be it. I’ll take their hatred over Vorgon’s displeasure any day.
He sensed Vorgon’s energy bundle in his head, that beautiful, dark root growing at his core. The root that fed him stamina like some Drainer weapon run amok. There were more roots attached in a circle around Vorgon’s, and these belonged to the women. In addition to granting him extras slots for Breaking monsters, they also gave him a boost in stamina as well. He could take more stamina from them, but the supply was not infinite, and if he fed too deeply, he would kill them.
A final bundle resided beyond theirs, near the outskirts of his mental space: Nemertes. The Blue was a true dragon, not a half dragon like Abigail and Weyanna, and thus she granted him no slots, or innate stamina. He could take stamina from her if he wished, but like the women, if he took too much Nemertes would die.
Nemertes usually slept during the day, but she could be coaxed into fighting beneath the sun, with the right impetus. Unfortunately, the particular impetus he’d chosen had mightily pissed her off.
One day I will slay you, Nemertes sent into his mind.
He couldn’t help but smile. You can certainly try, Little One.
Nemertes suddenly fought his mental control, violently, and it was all he could do to maintain his grip upon her.
Abigail and Weyanna, sensing his preoccupation, joined in, struggling to break free, forcing him to concentrate his vise on all three of them.
He drew stamina from them as they fought him, but because they resisted, the drain was slower than it should have been. Too slow… they were going to break free if he wasn’t careful.
Malem tapped into the infinite stamina Vorgon provided then; while the women continued to weaken, he only grew stronger.
Finally they stopped struggling, and his mental vise slammed shut around their minds. He gave stamina back to them—they would need it for the coming fight. Particularly Nemertes, who was flagging beneath him: she would drop from the sky at this rate.
He let the stamina flow into her, directing it straight from Vorgon, and Nemertes’ flapping became strong and steady once more.
I was wrong to ever trust a human, Nemertes sent.
Yes, I know, you blame all humans for the death of your mate hundreds of years ago, Malem replied mentally.
No, Nemertes said. I blame you for showing me that there was still goodness left inside of me. And then you had to go and stamp it out.
Malem smiled. So?
The dragon had nothing to say to that.
The mountain is in view, Weyanna relayed from beside him.
Ahead, he could see the distant peak poking up taller than all the others. Small dots began to flow away from the summit; at this distance, they looked like a swarm of bees erupting from a disturbed nest. As those dots grew closer, they began to scintillate underneath the sun.
The Metal dragons had heard the call to battle.
Well then, King Agantas, come meet your daughter. Come pay tribute to Vorgon, your master.
Servants of Vorgon had gone ahead to the great dragon city of Khaledonius to negotiate the king’s surrender, but the only message Agantas had sent back were the severed heads of the servants. Vorgon hadn’t been very pleased.
Malem reached out with his mind as the enemy dragons approached. He attempted to Break those in the forefront, but he was unable to wrap his will around any of them—they were too strong-willed, even with the boost his link to Vorgon provided.
Let’s see how strong-willed they are after a few flybys.
Dark mist began flow from his fingernails in anticipation of the coming battle. No doubt his eyes had also begun to glow a dark crimson, as he had been told they did during times of heated emotion. Both were side effects of his link with Vorgon.
He shifted the great dragonscale shield he carried in his free hand, repositioning his forearm within the straps for a more secure grip, and then withdrew Balethorn. The blade hummed louder than it ever had before, rising even above the sound of the air rushing past his head.
The magic sword wasn’t thirsting so much for the blood of the Metals before it, but rather the Blue below, and it was all Malem could do to prevent himself from plunging Balethorn into the great dragon’s back. He had to let it feed on another dragon soon… he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold it back otherwise.
Faster, Nemertes.
The Blue sensed the urgency in his signal, and increased its pace.
Why not give in to the urgings of the sword? Ziatrice sent. Stab the blade into Nemertes. Take the dragon’s life.
And end our own? he returned. Good idea. You just like tempting me, regardless of how stupid the suggestion.
I am a temptress, Ziatrice agreed. But consider, if we kill Nemertes, the other dragons will have no one to lead them. They will become disorganized, not to mention demoralized. And if that happens, there is a chance Vorgon will lose. If all the Metals concentrated their attacks upon him…
His mental voice assumed a dangerous tone. And why would I want Vorgon to lose?
So that you can lead Vorgon’s armies when the demon is gone, Ziatrice sent. Why conquer these lands for the Balor, when you could be conquering them for yourself?
He suppressed the rising anger he felt. All thoughts of plunging the sword into Nemertes had vanished, replaced by images of thrusting its sharp point into Ziatrice. He managed to bite down upon his rage, and instead sent a final mental transmission.
I will punish you later for these traitorous thoughts.
He silenced her.
The sword’s hungry urgings for the dragon resumed.
He found that interesting, how his rage had overridden the ravenous call of the sword. That knowledge could prove useful, if he could find a way to harness it.
As he neared the vanguard of the incoming dragons, he issued a mental command to Nemertes:
Split into the designated flanking units.
The Blues parted, flying into the sun so that they could attack from above. The Blacks meanwhile dove, intending to come in upon the enemy from below at the same time. Both flanking units separated into two waves: the first wave would rake the armored skin of their enemies with sharp talons as they passed, and the second wave would issue breath attacks to aggravate those wounds—ice in the case of the Blues, and acid for the Blacks. The breath attacks would be otherwise useless against those thick scales.
Malem wore a complete suit of dragonscale armor himself. It was coated in Duramite for added protection against dragon breath. Gwen and Mauritania both wore similar armor on their dragons beside him. Ziatrice, however, didn’t need such a suit, as she was capable of erecting a magical barrier around her body. She could also extend it over Malem, as need-be, though he’d have to replenish her stamina if she did that too often.
Nemertes continued on the same course, neither diving nor rising. Twenty dragons, including Abigail and Weyanna, remained with her. These dragons were chosen because of the particularly strong magic they wielded; they also carried powerful mages on their backs.
Malem headed straight for the lead Metal dragon. It was a large gold, one of the bigger he had seen. Fleshy lobes of wattle hung underneath the chin like a beard. He wasn’t really able to tell Metals apart when they were in metal form, but he thought that one looked somewhat familiar.
Abigail, is that King Agantas? he sent.
It is my father, she confirmed. Prince Jayden fights at his side.
He wasn’t all that surprised. The king liked to fight with his troops, and wasn’t afraid of leading the charge on occasion. The king had often told Malem it set a good example for the men.
>
The Metals breathed flame as they closed. Malem raised his dragonscale shield, protecting himself and Ziatrice. Fire elementals appeared in front of Nemertes’ face to assail her eyes, but the big dragon merely shifted her head and chomped down on the fire elementals, devouring them in one blow. Malem could have laughed.
The other dragons in Nemertes’ party didn’t fare as well against those fire elementals, and constantly shifted their heads to snap at the elusive creatures.
Vines materialized in thin air in front of King Agantas, and shot out toward Nemertes in an attempt to wrap around her wings. But her strong sinews easily broke free of the plants, and she continued flying toward the vanguard.
Nemertes unleashed her light magic then. Those ghostly tendrils sought out different Metals in the vanguard. It wouldn’t harm the dragons, not while they were as yet uninjured, but she wasn’t trying to hurt them. Only blind them. The bright light wrapped around their faces, forming blindfolds, and though the dragons shook their heads, they were unable to break free.
Abigail also created fire elementals, and she sent them to assail the eyes of those dragons that yet remained unaffected.
From above, Blues plunged into the blinded Metals of the vanguard, knocking them out of view. Meanwhile from below came the Blacks. They raked the undersides of the remaining foes, and dragon screams rent the air above the howl of the wind.
Nemertes used her light magic to debuff the enemy dragons, making them unable to access their magic—though the effect offered no visual cues, he knew because he felt the characteristic energy drop that came with such a debuff attack. Then Nemertes flew toward the king, opening her mouth to crunch down on Agantas’ head, but just then two dragons struck from above, knocking her out of alignment. Malem and Ziatrice were nearly ripped from the saddle.
Malem felt the pain pulsing in waves from the energy bundle of Nemertes, but the dragon said not a word of complaint. As those Metals scrabbled their claws across Nemertes’ back, Malem swung his blade at one of the Metals and managed to score a glancing blow in its right forearm. Balethorn buzzed triumphantly as the dragon released the Blue.
Chains of dark mist shot out from Ziatrice, and she wrapped them around that dragon, a Silver. She squeezed, tightening the chains so that the Silver’s wings were pinned to its body, and the helpless creature plunged from view. Ziatrice cackled wildly.
Nemertes spun her head to bite at the remaining Metal attached to her back. She bit at the neck, and wrenched the creature free; the enemy dragon’s claws ripped through the great Blue’s back before they tore away, spraying Malem and Ziatrice with gristle and blood.
Beside them, Mauritania launched emerald colored streams of magic from the back of Weyanna. Those deadly ribbons cut into the underside of the enemy Metal, and carved gaping wounds through the scales as they passed through to the underlying muscle. The dragon roared in pain before falling from the sky. Eldritch magic was the only magic that could pass through dragon scales like that, as far as Malem knew. Not even the dark works of black mages could penetrate unbroken scales.
He could still feel the pain pulsing in waves from the great Blue’s energy bundle.
Weyanna, heal Nemertes, he ordered.
No! Nemertes interjected. I want the pain. It fills me with anger. Anger gives me focus. Anger imbues my blows, and my magic, with strength. Let the wounds fester!
You are certainly a strange dragon, Malem sent. But as you wish. Weyanna, stand down.
The wounds would heal naturally over time anyway. Albeit slowly.
Malem glanced around him for Agantas, but he’d lost sight of the king. There were too many Golds out there. He wasn’t able to pick him out with his beast sense, either, because all the Metals around him had similar mental signatures.
Nemertes and the dragons with her had passed through the vanguard by then, and had entered the main body of Metal dragons. While Nemertes continued to blind them, Mauritania released several waves of green magic at the next group of incoming dragons, and struck several of them from the sky as well. Weyanna and Abigail released more fire elementals, while Gwen launched magic arrows from her saddle. These particular arrows were a gift from Faran, Black Sword of the night elves, rigged to explode upon impact, and they created grisly blast craters in the flesh of any dragons she struck.
Malem sensed Mauritania beginning to flag beside him; she fired her magical streams sporadically now, and when she did, they came only as weak threads. He simply restored her stamina, drawing on the near infinite supply from Vorgon. Mauritania, previously slumping, suddenly sat straighter in the saddle, and she gave Malem a wicked grin before launching her lethal magic with renewed vigor.
Nemertes also grew weaker beneath him. While her injuries would be healing at that very moment, the energy required for that healing was affecting her flight. She was flying beneath the others, and lagging behind them.
Malem granted her stamina as well, and in moments she rejoined the others, flying as strong as ever.
The mages on the backs of the other dragons unleashed different magical darts. Black streaks erupted from the night elf and orak mages, and burrowed into the wounds of enemy dragons, causing dark veins to spread across their flesh. Summoned by dwarven mages, Earth Elementals appeared on the backs of different Metals and punched away. Ziatrice herself persisted in launching her black chains, tightening them around any dragons that got too close, and sending them plunging.
Blues and Blacks continued to strike at the incoming enemy from above and below, while Nemertes blinded all that flew in her path. Sometimes dragons flew straight at her in an attempt to strike at her with their claws, but she was able to avoid them all, and oftentimes she was the one raking their scales, rather than the other way around.
Occasionally, enemy Metals came at Nemertes’ party from above, but usually the Blues overhead intercepted them. Malem granted stamina to Weyanna and Abigail as the flyby continued, and then, just like that, they had passed by the last of the dragons.
The city of Khaledonius awaited at the top of Mount Ademan ahead.
Malem glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, the combat had essentially turned into a free for all. Gone were any semblance of formations or attack waves—the enemy dragons wrestled with one another, or unleashed their lethal breaths into the wounds of any nearby enemies. The sky was littered with black forms vying against glittering shapes.
He turned his attention to the city below.
It’s time to unleash the dogs of war.
He pressed his boots into the flanks of the great Blue’s neck, and Nemertes dove. The other surviving dragons in her party followed her lead, and dropped toward the city.
4
Malem steered Nemertes across the walls of Khaledonius. Below, human mages who had stayed behind to defend the city launched bolts of lightning and fireballs their way, but the big Blue easily absorbed the blows, as her underbelly was undamaged. She breathed venom and ice in turn, alternately melting and freezing her mortal foes. She also unleashed waves of light magic, and the threads of evil power weaved between the humans, causing their bodies to implode, leaving behind only bloody, empty robes on the parapet.
In moments the Blue and her party were past the wall, and passing over the city proper. The towers below were made of emerald and gold, the exteriors further encrusted with rubies and gems. The balconies dotting the many structures harbored silver railings adorned with ornaments and carvings, but were otherwise empty. The streets between them were paved in diamonds, but also untrafficked at the moment.
Malem kept Nemertes well above the city, because even though there were holes in some of the towers to facilitate the passage of dragons, Nemertes was too huge to fit any of them.
They approached the series of walled-off towers that represented the central keep on the far side of the city.
Metals lined the parapets that surrounded that keep, and they leaped off the edge, transforming into great silver and gold dragons as they did so. The t
hirty defenders approached the fifteen invaders, eager to make a name for themselves. No doubt they believed that the one among them who slew Nemertes and the evil Defiler on her back would be hailed as the savior of the world.
Malem grinned wickedly. He’d certainly like to see them try.
Ziatrice released her ghostly chains, instantly downing one of the attackers. Mauritania fired her green ribbons, tearing into the chest of another. Gwenfrieda fired her arrows, and the Metals dodged, but one of them was struck, and the explosion tore open its gut in a sickly mess. The creature landed on a nearby rooftop, its insides pouring out onto the surface and gluing the unfortunate dragon in place. Abigail created fire elementals; Weyanna breathed liquid fire into the eyes of her enemy, while also causing shards of ice to rain down from above.
Fire n’ Ice, Malem thought incongruously. That was our nickname for her.
His mind jumped back to the trick she had shown him while they were on the road from the fallen city of Tartan to the front lines in the west. They’d paused at a stream to refill their canteens. An entire army refilling its canteens could take quite some time, especially considering that all the pack animals would need to drink as well. Malem had gone for a walk along the shores with Weyanna, taking a small moment of respite from the dread of the coming battle that had hung over them all at the time.
Weyanna had run ahead, giggling like a little girl.
“Weyanna!” he called. “Slow down!” He struggled to keep up with her, his dragonscale armor weighing him down.
When he finally reached her, she was kneeling next to the stream. She thrust her hands up to the elbows into the shallow river, and when she removed her forearms, she carried a ball of ice she’d formed from the liquid water.
“Want to see how to create fire from ice?” Weyanna asked mischievously.
“Impossible,” Malem said. “Unless you’re using magic of some kind.”
Weyanna shrugged. “Not impossible. And I won’t need magic.”
