Low cries sounded over the city. The earth shook, trembling under the force of the wyrm’s gluttony. A low, grating scrape sounded incessantly, jarring to the ears. Festival forgotten, the townsfolk rushed about, gathering precious items into carriages, wagons, or simply bags and hustling away.

Leo ran out to greet them as they rushed toward the stables, their horses ready to go. He nodded at them, then looked out toward the sound and tipped his head curiously.

“Wyrms. Head the opposite direction of the sound, and we’ll find you later,” Jet said shortly.

Leo stiffened, paling. He nodded.

Elly grabbed his hand. “Find the church. Kat should already be there. Keep an eye on her and make sure she settles well, understood?”

Meeting Elly’s eye, Leo nodded once more.

“Oy, how about a boost?” Gideon requested, trying to hop onto his horse.

Leo hurried over and knelt, offering his leg as a stepping-stool. Gideon took it and climbed onto his horse at last.

Angel looked around, then sighed. “Oh man, look at that, there’s no horse for me—”

Leo gestured her over and made the stool again, offering her a boost onto Gideon’s horse.

Gideon grinned wide. “Leo, thattaboy. You aren’t getting away so easily, Angel.”

Angel sighed. “Fine. I’m getting fifteen percent, after all…”

“Twelve, dammit,” Gideon grumbled, grin banished.

The four of them rode out of the stables, while Leo ran the opposite direction. As they ran past the Baron’s manor, the Baron ran out. He nodded at them. “What’s happening?”

Jet reined in Bluebell, letting the others run by. “Wyrmquake! We’re going to put it down. Evacuate the town, in case things go wrong!”

The Baron nodded. He mopped his brow and ran toward his guards, already shouting orders. The guards ran out into town, splitting in every direction. Some directed citizens, while others helped load carriages and hook up horses to wagons.

“We’re going to… look at him, taking credit for all my future hard work,” Gideon muttered, shaking his head.

Elly rode up beside Angel and smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Angel to you,” Angel replied.

“That’s a beautiful name. My horse’s name is Angeline, but I call her Angie,” Elly replied, still smiling.

“Are… you saying I have a horse’s name?” Angel asked.

“Hey, it could be worse. Your name could be Bluebell,” Gideon replied.

“Thanks, that really helps,” Angel said sarcastically.

“Glad to help,” Gideon replied, giving a small smile.

“Oh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to insult you. My name is Elly, short for Elanor, Elanor Ringle. And you?”

“Elanor Ringle,” Gideon chuckled under his breath.

“Angel… Doop,” Angel replied.

Elly blinked. After a moment, she managed a polite smile. “That’s… a very nice…”

“Angel Doop? Angel Doop. Are you serious?” Gideon asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Go on,” Angel said, exhausted already.

“Doop, like the legendary Doop Doop?” Gideon said, turning to look her in the eye.

“Eh? You’ve heard of grandma?” Angel asked.

Gideon frowned. “Who hasn’t? She invented a whole new style of bardic dance, the Doop style, a single style that could replenish mages and warriors at once. When it comes to bardic dancers, there’s no one more influential in the last century.”

“L…legendary Doop Doop?” Elly managed weakly.

“It was grandma’s stage name, but she passed it on as her surname. Didn’t like her father, I think,” Angel said with a shrug.

“Ah…” Elly said, at a loss.

“Well, I can understand how someone like Elly hasn’t heard of her. Bardic dance has a terrible reputation, for some reason,” Gideon said, sighing. He cut his eyes at Jet at the same time, a small smirk on his face.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Because it’s not real,” Jet replied without looking back.

“Just because all you muscle-brained soldiers don’t know a bardic dancer from a whore doesn’t mean it isn’t real,” Gideon replied, putting a hand on his hip indignantly.

“Sometimes, you’ve gotta work two jobs to get by,” Angel said sagely.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with whores, anyways,” Gideon added, nodding.

Jet sighed.

They came to the city’s edge. Some distance away across a field, at the edge of the limestone block, wyrms thrashed through the earth. They crawled over one another, knotting up and squirming over one another like a bucket of earthworms. The earth churned up all around them, beaten to mud and dust as the wyrms twisted around each other and bit at the limestone.

“Gross,” Gideon muttered. He drew his tome. Lightning flickered around him, building up in his clothes and hair.

Angel edged away from him, an uncertain expression on her face. “Er, is there room on someone else’s horse…?”

Jet hesitated, looking across the field at the wyrms. What am I supposed to do about this? I could kill one, maybe two, but then the rest would turn on me, and…

“Critical cast! Crawling Lightning! Die, dragons… die!” Gideon shouted. He threw his hand out. Thin strands of lightning sparked through the air, barely visible.

What on earth is he doing, Jet wondered, frowning.

The thin strands of lightning struck a wyrm and burst to life. Balls of lightning exploded around the wyrm, shooting off it to slam into the other wyrms around the first, then leaping from wyrm to wyrm from there. It grew weaker as it spread, then detonated all at once, killing three wyrms and injuring dozens. Blood splattered, and the scent of charred wyrm filled the air.

The wyrms thrashed, thrown into a further frenzy by the scent of their own blood. Some turned on their dead fellows and devoured them, while others propelled their long bodies to stand upright, sniffing the air.

Not done yet, Gideon threw his hand out again. “Chained Lightning, critical cast!”

A three-strand bolt of lightning slammed into a wyrm halfway across the battlefield. It instantly arced from one wyrm to the next, connecting a half-dozen together. They flailed as one, helpless in the throes of the lightning.

One wyrm turned to face them. It screeched, a horrid, fingernails-on-chalkboard sound, then hurtled toward them.

Jet drew his sword. “They’re coming.”

Gideon sagged back, exhausted. He patted Angel. “Come on. Show him bardic magic isn’t a joke!”

Angel hopped off the horse. She clapped her hands and swayed to her own beat. She shook her hips and waved her arms hypnotically.

“This nonsense…” Jet started, then stopped.

The mana in the field stirred suddenly. All at once, it came alive, burning brighter than Jet had ever felt before. It flew toward Angel, who accepted it with her palms, did a turn, and threw the awakened mana into Gideon.

Instantly, Gideon sat up. He took a deep breath and smiled, reinvigorated. “Ah, dancers! How I’ve missed you!”

The wyrms rushed at them. Already, the first of them were nearly close enough to reach out and touch. The leader opened its mouth and charged, horrible dull teeth bared. It huffed, and its breath threw Jet’s hair back.

“Incoming!” Jet shouted, raising his sword. He kicked Bluebell, and man and horse charged into battle.

The pages on Gideon’s tome flipped again. He pointed a finger. “Critical-cast, Lightning Ray!”

A ray of lightning struck the leader seconds before Jet’s sword made contact. The huge body stiffened, then fell, plummeting toward Jet.

Jet’s eyes widened. He jerked Bluebell’s reins, leaning away from the wyrm. Bluebell neighed and slammed her hooves into the ground, wheeling away. The wyrm’s body scraped by them as it fell, barely missing Bluebell’s withers.

“Chained Lightning, critical cast! Die, dragon, die!” Gideon shouted, pointing at the second charging wyrm. Lightning sizzled from his hand and smashed from wyrm to wyrm, leaving black scorch marks behind. The wyrms flopped over, lightning flickering over their bodies.

Gideon looked at Angel expectantly.

Angel stood in a crouch, hands propped on her thighs. She waved a hand, her chest heaving. “Give me… a minute…”

“Dammit. This is why I need two dancers,” Gideon muttered to himself.

“What on earth,” Jet murmured, not sure what to make of anything that had just happened. How many wyrms did he take down single-handedly? With Gideon here… this isn’t just possible, it’s… it’s gone from a vicious battle we stand no chance of winning, to shooting fish in a barrel!

Gideon nodded. “Two dancers. That way, one can dance while the other rests, and you get infinite dances. Nonstop spells! Well… until you run out of mana in the area, anyways. But that never happens.”

“That’s not…” Jet waved his hand, letting it be. It’s better than admitting what I was actually thinking. Gideon’s ego is big enough already without me massaging it, too.

“The ideal party is me, two dancers, and a healer. Honestly, Jet, you’re just dead weight,” Gideon opined.

Jet clicked his tongue. “Thanks. Glad to know you think so highly of me.”

Gideon sighed, hands open. “I’d ditch you if I could, but the collar…”

“One more word,” Jet warned him. I’ve heard enough about the collar for today. What kind of idiot steals a Baron’s jewels to unseal his collar? Could he be more obvious?

Wyrms raced at them again, their stubby legs churning over the earth, hideous maws opened wide.

“Oh, fine. Angel, I’m good to go, you?” Gideon called.

“Ready when you need me,” Angel said, raising her arms.

“Alright! Here we go!” Gideon raised his tome. The pages flipped. Lightning burst across the battlefield, accompanied by the pained wails of the wyrms and the crash of thunder. Wyrm after wyrm hit the ground, plump bodies splatting down.

After a while, the townsfolk stopped running away. A few even came out to the edge of the city to watch, and one enterprising young lady started selling strawberry parfaits to the watchers. Leaving the wyrms to Gideon, Jet took Bluebell to the rubberneckers and patrolled up and down their ranks to make sure no one got too close to the battle, while keeping half an eye on Gideon and the girls.

Why am I here. They’ve got it handled, Jet thought to himself.

Figaro’s face flashed in his head, the man’s eyes drilling into his. He nodded to himself, his own eyes blazing.

I’m here to bring this man to the True Dragon. My job is to make sure this vagrant does his job, and that’s more than enough work for me.

Motion caught the corner of his eye. An elderly woman wobbled out into the field, raising a hand to her eyes to see better.

Jet turned Bluebell toward her with a tap to the neck. He smiled at the old lady. “Excuse me, ma’am, please stay back…”

“Critical-cast! Die, dragon, die!” Gideon roared in the background.

Dammit, what am I doing? Jet thought to himself, repressing a sigh.