Now that he’d robbed the air dragon of it’s mobility and forced it into a disadvantage, he’d moved the fight into a stage that favored him. In a straight up fight he had no doubt it would have beaten him. But as he was quickly learning? Life was anything but fair. He tried to keep an open mind but he was getting really sick of having to fight dragons. This made the what? Third now? Fourth? Who even knew. He figured he should probably sit down and tally these things up at some point.
The dragon wobbled in the air as it struggled to stabilize itself. As the Wyvern bore down on it, the air wyrm found as good an equilibrium as possible. Akamori brought three spell cannons to bear, hurling powerful void bolts amplified by the ship. Three massive violet beams of negative energy crashed into the dragon as it flung a defiant bolt of raw lightning that snaked through the night sky, casting it in dark shades of blue lining a brilliant white. At the last moment, Morwen snapped off a counter spell from the fourth cannon. The bolt of grayish white splashed into the head of the lightning bolt, and the attack shattered into aether shards and motes of fading sparkling energy.
The void bolts crashed into the dragon throwing it into an uncontrolled spinning fall. The spells left deep wounds blasted into its otherwise pristine snowy white scales. Eventually it righted itself out and flashed a defiant glare, teeth bared. Akamori had no sympathy for the wyrm. It chose this fight. He didn’t even know who it was. As far as he was concerned. This was just self defense.
Blood dripped from the deep impact wounds of his spells on the dragons chest and back alike. Small red rivers breaking up the pure white of its body. Both Akamori and the dragon knew the fight was decided. Akamori grimly accepted it, but the dragon did not. It roared defiantly and fired off several powerful spells it wove with its claws. The spells crashed harmlessly into a light barrier powered by Sirsir who grunted against each impact. A crack formed on the first that spider webbed before the field shattered on the final strike.
The Wyvern crashed through the shattered fragments of their shield as the pieces broke down into motes of dissipating aether. Akamori let out a warcry from the cockpit and all four cannons fired raw beams of void. The ship tore huge chunks of magic from his chest, like diving into a freezing cold lake. He felt drained and numb. He watched with grim satisfaction as the snow white dragon that had been hounding them since they left was gored through the chest.
The air dragons body fell limply to the ground without further protest to the Wyvern as it roared by victoriously. The squad let out a few grunts of cheer. Poor Arjun still gripped the arm rests of his seat in the aft of the cockpit, wide eyed. As the small corvette tore free of the planets gravity well, it transitioned into the vast emptiness of the Umbral plane. Akamori had traversed the realm enough to have grown used to the vast emptiness it exuded, but some still felt weary of it.
Sirsir undid his harness with a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna hit the rack.”
“Bit early for you to be sleeping isn’t it?” Akamori turned to ask.
“Nah sir. Not the rack rack. The squat rack.”
Realization dawned on Akamori and nodded. “Ohhh. Right. I knew that. Give me a few to plot our course and I’ll join you shortly.”
The big man grunted and marched out, the heavy thumping of his armored boots signaling his departure from the bridge. After that, the dam broke and the others soon too unbuckled safety harnesses and rose. Eventually poor Arjun was left behind with Akamori who rose to pat the man on his shoulder.
“Take a few and process. It’s a lot to take in.”
Arjun nodded meekly, glancing around. The mousey technician looked severely out of place. Glancing around, Akamori mentally asked the ship if there was some kind of instruction manual for it’s maintenance and the ship guided him to the fore console. Beneath it was a small slot with a knowledge crystal slot. He withdrew it and handed it over to Arjun.
“Here, give this a look. Should explain how to fix and handle everything. I know it’s not technology, but it should be up your alley enough to get your head around.”
Knowledge crystals were basically small repository’s of vast amounts of knowledge and skills, compiled within the small crystal latticework and held together with a tiny amount of magic.
The almond skinned man took the crystal and held onto it like a life raft to sanity. He nodded shakily and made his way off the bridge looking like he’d just been told up was down and then shown it was true. Akamori gave him a sympathetic smile. Arjun would be fine once he could sit down and cut into the contents of the crystal. Now that the ship’s course was locked in, there was little else to do but prepare for the inevitable fight that loomed beyond their return. So he took the sergeant up on the squat rack.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
He’d never been big on working out when he was younger. Now that he’d been forced to constantly push his body beyond what he’d previously been able to achieve, he valued it immensely. More than that, he also found it to be heavily meditative. The strain and focus oddly counter balanced each other, pushing out all other concerns.
He felt a deep rumbling purr of content deep within his soul. Something dark and cold shifted, like a boa constrictor made of ice coiling around him tighter. It was pleased he was improving himself physically. He knew it was the other presence, Bahumet. The destroyer, nested alongside his soul. A piece of a soul both familiar and not.
As he worked on a bench press set, he could sense the satisfaction from the void wyrm’s soul shard. He’d spent so long pushing its presence from his mind, that now that there was no immediate emergency or obstacle and he had the downtime to focus internally, he found the cold aura of the soul of Bahumet waiting there. Patiently observing his progress and always judging him.
Thus far, that judgement had been abysmally displeased. With his progress on Eryn, and the training he received under Cenine and Avreone however, that had gradually begun to shift. The void shard’s displeasure slowly shifting towards begrudgingly satisfied. All of his progress so far was just the beginning though. In the end he needed to be leagues from his current status. To reach that pinnacle he’d need tons more training.
Retiring to his quarters he mused on his battles to date. Most of them had been against dragons. Excluding training battles against Cenine, He was about half and half on wins to losses. Still, his wins had been big wins. Until he’d med Sashlu he’d credited sheer luck and just enough training to know what he was doing for the wins. Now though, he began to wonder if being a dragonslayer was artificially engineered.
His frustration with his meeting with the divine incarnation of fate left him unsettled and feeling like the control he’d struggled so hard to retain was just stolen from him. It made him all the more determined to make his own decisions and act free of influence. He’d go back to Eryn, and stop the Sauridius. But not because Fate was pushing him to do so, but because he chose to. If the two happened to coincide, then so be it.
He laid down on his rack in his own quarters. That was something he was still trying to get used to having spent most of his time on the Crasher in the mage bay. Now he had his own private room. The bed felt a little too comfortable. He assumed it would be like what laying on a cloud would feel like, if clouds could support mass.
He flashed one last look at his armor which hovered silently in the corner of the room. His personal gift from Kusinaki. He wondered what his friend was up to. Probably making some new spell weapon or armor for him. Kusinaki never liked missing out, even though he was woefully skilled for a standup fight. The care and attention paid to the crafting of the armor shone through in its performance.
Sleep overtook him slowly. His tired and sore body slowly pulling his consciousness into rest. As rest took root, his mind drifted back to his home village. His people. It was pleasant enough at first. Fondness and warmth filled him, at least temporarily. Until the fires burned and the undead walked free. Shacklers and orcs assaulted his home. Murdered friends and family. Snuffing out the life he once struggled to escape free of.
He snapped awake, gasping and heaving from a hypnic jerk. He could still taste the smoke in the wind. His skin felt like it’d been coated in ash just seconds ago. He wrapped his arms around his torso, as much for warmth as comfort. He kept it together in front of the squad about as well as anyone could ask for on the best of days. But at night it was hard not to just let himself unravel a little. To expose the hurt core behind his mask.
One horrible night changed his life forever. He’d transitioned from being a wistful farmboy and hair to a village, to being a spell soldier. Training in a mage college. Learning about fighting and magic. He’d become a dragonslayer. The perfect weapon forged by gods and pointed at their enemies. A divine blade, or spear.
His body stopped trembling when a seeping cold spread beneath his skin. It sapped the warmth from around him. It numbed all pain that lingered, physical and emotional. Like a frozen blanket of apathy. It spread out, and the urge to cry lessened. His thoughts were torn away from the unfortunate demise of his family, to how good it was going to feel, carving his enemies down. A sentiment his sword shared eagerly.
The cool air dancing along his sweat damp skin teased a soft shiver free. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, if he’d even truly drifted off all together. He pushed himself out of bed, drawing his blade which he needed to name eventually.
After several minutes of controlled slow breathing, his body eased into an artistic flowing kata. His ever lengthening blade hummed around him as he gracefully transitioned from pose to pose. His heart rate slowed to match his breathing. His eyes closed, feeling the blade thrum like a struck tuning fork from the air magic humming up and down the blade. It sang melodically as the blade cut arcs through the air.
He finished his final kata and placed his blade back in its sheath. It thrummed pleased in his grip. He knew it was partially languishing while they trudged the unlit depths of the Umbral realm. With no enemies to fight, the blade felt like a pacing tiger in a cage.
Laying down he sighed softly as the bed wrapped him in its soft embrace. Sleep came to him once again. The second time was the charm as his mind, body, and soul put to ease by his meditation eased into restfulness. And this time, the nightmares didn’t come. The dragonslayer found some measure of peace in the abyssal hell of the Umbral plane.
There was one noticeable aspect of his sleep that was different from the first time. As his mind and body eased over, something in his soul shifted softly. The constricting cold a little less tight, a little less frigid. There was a kinship in the feeling. A commiserate sense of loss and mourning. Deep down, the destroyer felt his own saddness as its own.