Normally, claiming you moved a mountain alone would sound so ludicrous, that anyone would call foul at the claim. Though Tiktik might cry fowl at the claim, heh. Anyway, the thing is, there’s traces of me and my magic all up and down Wistenzlia. Last night I made a pretty big show of arriving alone, blowing the crap out of the mountain, and leaving without pursuit being able to follow. This ancient is at least smart enough to consider my claim.

Sadly, I can’t leave myself tied up here forever. I mean, it’s not sad. It’s just a thing that’s a truth. I have to finish our little meeting of the minds sooner rather than later. I can sense tons of Terrorzin’s forces rushing past us, towards where my friends have fallen back to in order to set up a more stable line of defense.

The veneer of disdain begins to crumble as the ancient Blue ruminates, “The Onyx Dawn cannot possibly hope to withstand the tide of nearly all dragonkind upon the face of our world. You’ve absolutely no hope. The Ice of Rage will raze the world. Your forces have but a scant week or two to accept their fate,” before they add, much more quietly, “Even were I convinced, accepting your mercy would be accepting a deserter’s death at the hands of the Ice of Rage and his innumerable forces.”

Smirking and rolling my eyes, I respond, “Nah buddy, that’s where you’re wrong. Y’see, I’ve been out here soloing hordes, fortresses, blowing up mountains, two in two days if you haven’t heard about Stormspire yet, and doing unspeakable things to foes that break ceasefires like Tinth. Oh yeah, did y’hear about how I utterly decimated him in an instant, from Nonnam, the Damnation I rode down through the Worldstorm?”

Okay, so I’m technically lying there, sorta. I haven’t soloed any of the fortresses we’ve taken down. I mean, I started ShizTinth solo, before Shaylon and Boetah showed up, while dragging Atter as my prisoner. Oh wait ShizTinth, Nonnam, Damnations. What was it Illy said when I told her about my Honoris Causa’s breath weapon? She chastised me for mentioning it only disoriented them, when they haven’t even been stood up to, or had anyone survive an encounter with them, for ages.

My mind races as I press a new tack, “What about the fact that I drove off the Damnations something like *four* times!? Two of them are slain, their bodies as meat for the Emerald Dawn. Not to mention all of their underlings, the Evil Claws. That last part was accomplished by a single attack of mine. Ask any Damnation that fled. They witnessed it.” Jeering in a way that hurts my own soul, I taunt, “What, haven’t heard from your buddies in a while?”

Huh, the entire battlefield got quiet all of a sudden when I insinuated the usually-unstoppable Damnations are off the board. I mean, as quiet a thunder-rumbling, stone-crumbling, acid-hissing, fire-crackling, echoey canyon can get anyway. Also, I don’t need to mention that technically one Evil Claw is still alive, Pidge. Pidge seems pretty content to just exist in a bit of a daze, within Solace, after being bested by Lucky.

Even if this high commander doesn’t defect, but simply retreats to ponder my offer, then I’ve taken a very ancient, very powerful foe off the board for some period of time. I need to remember, that on our list of priorities, buying time is near the top. But I’ve got a better plan. I levitate my portable hole out of a pouch at my waist, unroll it, and place it upon my TK squares in midair.

While the ancient Blue still contemplates, I add, “If you’re wary of Terrorzin spotting your defection, and you truly wish to be granted mercy, shift down into your human form, and climb into the hole in space that I just placed mid-air. I’ll fold you back up and carry you in my pocket. Then you’ll be untouchable, in an entirely different interdimensional space, until I take a break and return to Solace.”

Sensing hesitation, I angle to press the point home, “When I let you out, you need not join the war effort. There’ll be no retribution awaiting you, should you simply choose to while away the days within Solace, enjoying our infinite supply of gems, liquor, materials, and goods. Take a peak through my goggles if you don’t believe I’ve got the magic to cover my claim. If I open the hole early, before returning to Solace, it’ll just be to check that you have clean air, or to allow another mercy receiver our sanctuary.”

Something I never thought I’d hear happens; the ancient Blue’s voice cracks as they sputter, “You can’t, you can’t possibly be serious. This simplistic little enchantment, and, and, and what? We’ve the might of near a hundred thousand dragonkin. You number in the dozens. The num—.”

Feeling a bit irritated that this is being drawn out, I interrupt, “We house over thirty one thousand dragonkin. If push came to shove, we’ve a lot more force than you claim. Not to mention the Emerald Dawn across the twinned mountains. We’re so confident that we don’t need more than a few dozen to take on the entirety of the Ice of Rage’s forces, that we allow those thirty thousand odd people a life of peace, not even requesting they contribute to the war in any way.”

My foe shakes their head in disbelief. Tumult in their voice, the high commander continues, "You insinuated that, unlike the Ice of Rage, the Onyx Dawn actually has, and provides medical aid?"

Thinking that perhaps we're closing in on an accord, I assure the high commander, "We've a fully stocked infirmary and triage. Skilled nursing volunteers, and more."

In my mind, I picture the ancient Blue whose hand I’m being painfully crushed in, and whose hand I've impaled with my Adamantite body, asking to have their hand patched up. What is actually requested hurts me a million times worse than any pain of combat, "Take this magic hole and save her. Save Jatrisiahl. Cure the mutation Terrorzin forced upon her. Bring my mate back to me. If... if it's uncurable, untreatable, at least provide her comfort and care."

Mentally, figuratively, I’m struck a heavy blow. My innards twist at the revelation of the emotionally heavy toll that must have been extracted from the high commander over the ages. I shouldn’t do this, especially since we seem to have come to an accord, but I disengage the runic clip that freezes me in space, and ravenport out of the ancient Lightning’s hand, wasting a daily charge of my coat, to make a point. When I reform as myself, I stand dozens of meters in the air on one of my telekinetic grips. At eye level with the ancient high commander, my gaze is resolute. No questions asked. I’m rescuing their mate.

Signaling into my goggles, I request, “Sec-cen, patch me through to Teuila please. Good, thanks. Te, are you able to hear clearly? The Lightning high commander is going to tell us their name, and what a mate named Jatrisiahl looks like, a brief description, and where she is. Are you down for a rescue op? One maybe mixed with a little hit ‘n’ run?”

Blinking, stunned, the ancient dragon looks down at their foreclaw, where I’d resided this entire conversation. A foreclaw, that’s no longer pinned in place, realizing that, as I said, I was never trapped there to begin with. Shaking her, hm, their—apparently—head, the ancient Lightning high commander begins taking their human form, androgynous in appearance but femme leaning. They retain their wings, and flap midair, level with me.

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The look of disbelief, and confusion on the Lightning’s face is tinged with fear. Whether that’s of me, or of Terrorzin, I know not, but upon hearing Teuila’s affirmative broadcast from my goggles, they state as I’ve suggested, “Lightning High-Commander Nyssa’Lina. Jatrisiahl would normally be behind Terrorzin’s throne-room, bound. For this march, the Ice of Rage brought his broodmothers to…”

Disquieted, Nyssa’Lina lets the sentiment linger, before finishing with a short description of Jatrisiahl, and the broodmothers’ locations in Terrorzin’s camp. This is beyond dangerous. Teuila and I aren’t covert ops in the way that Iylynila is. Te’s a speedster though. If anyone can zoom through, and past, a snarling horde thirty-five-thousand strong, it’s Teuila. I flash Nyssa’Lina a reassuring neutral half-smile, the sadness about their mate preventing me from showing the warmth I’d like to.

Quipping to lighten the mood, I hazard to guess, “I don’t suppose the ancient Fire or Ice would be on the same wavelength, and could be talked into surrendering, yeah?”

Nyssa’Lina shakes their head while answering, “No, they’re A Frayed Knot.”

Blinking, I ascertain whether Nyssa said afraid not, or a frayed knot. When it’s confirmed to be the latter, I understand the implication. Terrorzin’s fanatical doomsday cult. I certainly won’t be convincing any of them. Well, I’m going to have to rely on Shiz, Shaylon, Boetah, the Spellknights, Lil, and Lucky holding the second chokepoint against those two. Thankfully Lil and Lucky are both practically immune to fire and cold at this point. It’s almost ironic that the ancient Fire and Ice are the two who survived with their power and wits. Only for them to bring their power to bear against two of the SAP, who will be entirely unfazed.

Also, I should probably note that something like a thousand troops surround our little conference. Most of them gazing at us, some side-eyeing their compatriots warily, some frothing, ready to engage. No matter the outcome, the fact that my conversation paused the relentless waves of reinforcements rushing towards my allies for even a moment is a massive boon. Still, Teuila’s feed is blitzing its way this way, and I’m still patched through to her on audio, so I let her know not to go ham or kill people that are standing around.

Whether or not we can convert any of Terrorzin’s shock troops, if Nyssa actually accepts our mercy, and we manage to rescue their mate, then… then—then what Reggie? Then that will have to be enough, for now. I regret not offering mercy sooner, to the first waves of Terrorzin’s horde, but I know they’d have been amongst the most fanatical, plenty happy to charge headlong towards death. Or perhaps they’d have been the least loyal, sent to the front lines as punishment. Oof, that thought hits like a punch to the gut that I didn’t offer earlier. Still, they couldn’t have defected with thousands of troops rushing up behind them, the silt-odilians and ancient high commanders on the way.

When My Wings arrives, the surprise on her face is evident to me, but hidden beneath the confident bravado of a warrior in her element. She knows as well as I do, that we really don’t have time for a rescue op. That it’s taking away time we should be decimating Terrorzin’s horde before it can complete its journey towards Solace. This is the me I have to be though, and there’s a layer of pride on Teuila’s gorgeous face. She flips her ruby-red undercut casually, as if we were friends at a social event, rather than foes floating above a thousand Terrorzin troops in the midst of war.

That seems to be the final straw on several levels. Nyssa’Lina lowers themselves into the portable hole, and the horde below me breaks into chaos at the defection. Amongst the many cries of, “Traitor!” and, “Long live the Ice of Rage,”—ironic as that one is—there’s quiet reflection and grim determination on the faces of some who’re done with it. In-fighting on a massive scale overtakes the wave of foes beneath us. Even were I not pressed for time, I’d have no idea who to aid and who to slay, so I steel my heart and wrap my arms about Te’s waist. I gulp down my lamentations as I fold up my portable hole like a handkerchief to tuck it away safely once more.

Suddenly we’re rocketing westward, skirting the horde, or the Worldstorm, alternatingly. The forces of our foes blurs beneath me while I grasp Teuila, holding her tightly. She reduces our gravity and friction to near zero, with her Latent, so I don’t even need to hold my breath. To do this, to succeed, one of us is going to need to be bait, a distraction. That’s going to have to be me. So, guess what you get to do twice in two days Reggie. Huh? Oh. Actually, I think the third time in two days. Yeah. Shellcracker Satellite Slam while unleashing giant dire shadow weasels to distract and piss off the horde while Te slips in to the encampment.

Te is much more likely to succeed at the rescue itself than I am, so I slip the portable hole into one of her pouches. We’re en-route to Terrorzin’s private encampment, a move more risky than I’d like to admit. If he catches on, and we’re within range of his Latent, it’s over for us. Terrorzin himself is our biggest threat.

Still, thinking about that, my mind returns to a previous rumination on Terrorzin and his motives. As I conjecture, I mumble towards Te, “Y’know. I’ve been thinking about Terrorzin’s troop placement, his holding back of forces, the fact that he’s kept about half of his army in reserve, and all that. If he had some invincible endbringer beast, why not unleash it already? If he really, truly, just wanted to watch the world burn, why not just send them all out at once? Because he doesn’t. He wants the world scoured of any threats to him.”

Raising her left brow towards me, I can tell Teuila’s listening, despite her careful maneuvers carrying us through and over Terrorzin’s horde at ludicrous speed. Letting Terrorzin’s motives sink in for a moment, I continue, “Kinzul is probably the foremost amongst them. Even if the Onyx Dawn hadn’t initiated our plans for the war, I bet right now, he’d still have been here, just with a few more fortresses of troops.”

Waiting a beat, I finish, “He doesn’t want to die Te. He’s trying to fight his own portent. Sure, he might be confident that half of his forces *should* be enough to take on the whole world, all being dragonkins and all, what with him restricting magical growth anywhere else on Rayileklia. But even still, he’s afraid, and that’s why he kept half of his forces in reserve. So that he can run and hide if things go south.”

Wearing a devilish grin, Teuila teases, “So this whole shebang, the army, the plasma balls, the horny gators, the—“

Interrupting as my face contorts, I ask, “The what?”

Frowning, she answers, “You know, the dirt-swimmy gators with horns on their faces, that took like all of us to even slow them down.”

Snorting, rolling my eyes and shaking my head incredulously, I realize Te means the things I was referring to in my head as mammoth-crocodiles and silt-odilians. I sigh and state, “Those are tusks babe, not horns. They came from the jaw. Pft. Horny gators. More like horny Tenith.”

As Teuila flicks her eyes up towards rolling them, I can sense that she’d be retorting, “Whatever,” but she lets loose her miles-wide-closed-eyed smile and emits a quiet Shellcracker Squee. Perhaps she was running a bit on me.

Sighing, as much as I’d love to revel in Teuila’s affection and antics, we’ve got a plan to hatch on the fly. I express my thoughts on the rescue op, “Te, I think you should throw me at the ground as absolutely hard as you can when we’re almost about a kilometer out from the target zone. It should be far enough, that when the fracas swarms me, they won’t be getting in your way, but close enough that it’ll draw attention from the target zone.”

Nodding silently, Teuila rubs the corner of her left eye. Funnily, an itch and a tear roll along my left eyelid as well, so I end up doing the same. Despite the emotional heaviness, we’re united in this, together on every level, and I feel light. Figuratively and literally, what with Te’s gravity manipulation from her Latent, “precise control over the forces of attraction.” Heh. Ah you just had to go and think something positive Reggie, didn’t you? Now you’ve gone and jinxed this whole operation. Bah, shut up, it was barely—crap.

Is that a massive hydracoliche? Surrounded by a swarm of fliders? Nightmare-fuel and a half! Ugh, the one I took down at ShizTinth was bad enough. The fliders seem to be taking turns spraying calcifying webbing at the hydracoliche, increasing its mass. Hm, not so much taking turns, as mostly out of, well, web-fluid I guess. Bluh. Definitely going to need to deal with that before it becomes a much bigger, far heavier issue. Literally. Well, I guess I know what my distraction is going to be.