“Not good,” Tak observed, seeing Gadriel fall.

“He’s still alive!” Daniel shouted at the same time. “Someone catch him!”

Gadriel had been dislodged as the dragon was flying towards their position, though he fell over open water. Lograve was steadily expanding his ice, but could not do so rapidly. Those who had powers dedicated to catching their falling allies looked at each other, each shaking their head. Too far, and not enough time. Not for them.

Daniel saw this and then shouted at someone closer. “Tlara, your wyvern!”

“Really?” She looked away from her other beast which was moving across the expanding ice at a frenetic pace. “Ugh. Fine. Hey!” Her voice took on a deeper aspect that projected across the lake, forming seemingly nonsense words. The wyvern understood, and dove to catch the falling Hero. It could make it, speed wasn’t the problem thanks to the enchanted wings Gadriel wore. Him hitting the water and drowning was.

Someone else noticed this. Lograve was sitting within a sphere of thick ice at the center of their formation following the full self-destruction of the tower. Low walls circling his position provided cover for those around him, which included the Bards, archers, and Tlara’s group. The Arcanist melted some of the ice around him to shout out of. “Leave it to Murdon not to pull his weight! The dragon’s getting away. Tlara, I want you to bring Gadriel right here. I need healers, healing potions, and a mana potion. Now! We’re getting him back in the fight!”

Tlara was quick on the uptake. “No fucking way. That thing’s faster than my wyvern.”

“Not now that its wing’s been turned into a washboard. Gadriel goes back up to turn the dragon again or we all die. Do it Tlara!”

What happened next was the closest this world could get to a pit stop. Unless there are chariot races somewhere? Daniel thought as he tried to distract himself from the nervous fear inside of him.

“You want all of them?” William asked Lograve as he held three bottles in his hands. The Ranger was the custodian of a large stock due to a particular power that protected equipment he carried from incidental damage.

“Nah, those’re fine. We’ll do the rest.” Thomas was cracking his knuckles as he propped his bow on an ice wall and joined a group of healers standing in a wide circle. Their patient was rapidly approaching.

“Fine by me. We’re doing this fast, I’ll need some help. Come on.” Somehow it was Daniel holding one of the potions. At this point he was a glorified guard until the dragon came back into range, so he had a free hand.

“Do I pour it into his mouth?” Could he fast enough?

“Nah I got the stronger one. That should go down the gullet. Hit him with it.”

Daniel blinked. “Just, just hit him?”

William nodded, mostly concentrating on the approaching Hero. “Glass breaks the skin, potion gets under to heal that and more. Not the pretty way to do it but it is the fastest.”

First Heroes with dumb names, and now Rangers with faintly southern accents? Or, wait, I met William first. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“Ever think about how you’d get a potion through a mouth pooling with blood?”

“No?”

“Well best get thinking then. Destiny has arrived.” Parts of Gadriel were still smoking when the wyvern dropped him. The bracer on his wrist and the lightning wings were the only things completely untouched. “Huh, maybe that’s too much thinking.” William, with one hand plunging a bottle into Gadriel’s throat, used the other to grab Daniel’s wrist and smash his potion across Gadriel’s forearm like he was christening a ship. Just like the Ranger said, glass cut and the potion healed. With some of the glass left inside. That made Daniel’s skin itch and he pulled away. The mass of healers laying hands on the Hero also did that.

“I, I’m alive?” Gadriel asked when the potion bottle was pulled from his lips.

“We don’t have time. Flash Heal!” The ability expedited the slow rate of healing the Cleric would normally provide with Healing Hands, and a third of his burns disappeared.

“That’s too much mana, don’t-”

“Flash Heal,” another two spoke over the second. The three who had used the ability were the only members of the church of the Hand present, not counting Thomas who had yet to acquire the level two power. But he would, with time. Guaranteed powers were one of the exclusive benefits of swearing yourself to one of the gods. Gadriel went from death’s door to peak health in moments. That was still more moments than they had.

“Tlara, wyvern, now!” Lograve shouted and then gestured at William. The Ranger nodded, pulled one more potion from his belt, and hit it against Gadriel’s back. It was the mana potion, not meant for the Hero but his equipment.

“Mage, I fucking swear, if, aagh!” Tlara cursed as the bubble of ice around Lograve fully reformed. Still, she sent the wyvern off with its payload about ten seconds after it had landed. In its wake, the mortals continued to prepare for the next stage. The massive spider-like creature was at the fringes of the spreading ice, while teams were driving metal posts capped with a peculiar heliorite creation at regular intervals. They’d be ready for the dragon, but would the dragon be ready for them?

…

Murdon didn’t know what to do. The effects of the flight potion were waning. Even if it persisted, he couldn’t match the pace of the injured dragon given the weight of his armor. The tactical mind the Octyrrum had blessed him with was showing their odds declining like sand in an hourglass. What options did he have? Their boarding force was down to three. He was stuck on the wing. Though they had managed to slow the dragon’s flight speed, its main body was practically undamaged. Worse, it was still flying away.

What could he do? There was but one option that might work at the cost of, well, everything. It didn’t matter. Murdon gripped the ax with both hands. One way or the other, he was going to die. It might as well be done while assuring everyone else’s survival. He’d been chipping off pieces of himself and casting them into the fire to renew their hopes all this time. Why not send the rest in one grand gesture? The truth was Murdon had one way left to move across the dragon, there was just little point unless he was going to enact this final plan. There was only one place where he could do more damage than futility clinging on and lashing out.

Murdon steadied his grip and Jumped, landing ax first. That was something he could do faster than the dragon’s flight. With what amounted to small steps, he went further and further towards the dragon’s main body. It crested the lake’s ridge when he made it, cold certainty accompanying the darkening dusk. He just wished the other two didn’t have to follow him in this.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He kept moving, closer and closer to the front. Back to where he started. Murdon was going to end this fight like he had the last. Midnight Breath was his strongest ability, but it wouldn’t do anything if it just trailed out behind him. The effect was like a fog, using it now would just make it rain down slowly and kill a few trees. It had to be contained, and Murdon knew for certain that dragons made a good vessel for it.

The ax bit into the neck and the fleeing dragon looked at him sideways. There was malice and willful destruction in them, but not what he had come to fear seeing in the eyes of that one ringcat. The intelligence that had made Murdon question if there were any others like it. No, that one was unique. Maybe, after he died here, Lograve could find out why. His friend may be the last to keep hunting, assuming the Arcanist didn’t swear it off. The ten that had set out so many years ago only to find tragedy in place of glory were only a fraction of their original number now, soon to be further reduced. Worry stayed him for just a moment as Murdon wondered if he wouldn’t take the chance he was being given. Would his friend stay to chase the fleeting hope that he survived?

No, he wouldn’t. Lograve was like him. Dedicated, and smart. Even if there was a chance, the people mattered more. Murdon focused and then did something complex. For his last plan to work, he’d need to unleash his breath the moment he could see into the dragon’s throat. Any longer and he could die from the dragon’s teeth before getting it off. The problem was to get there, he’d have to use a channeled ability while priming another one. Practical sense stated this was impossible. Untrue, although it took practice and skill many lacked. Manipulating mana flow in two directions simultaneously wasn’t something you could just do without effort.

In this case the task was equivalent to swimming up a waterfall, if only briefly. The draconoid drew in the air around him, wincing as lightning breath shot towards a wing behind him. There was a singular explosion larger than the rest as the last other mortal on the dragon died in an instant. A quick death, at least. If the dragon’s maw didn’t kill him, Murdon could take a while to die. Murdon clenched his eyes shut, grasping at whatever mental strength he could. In the midst of what he was attempting, he also had to time the Jump as well as mind the direction. With the latest hit the dragon was listing and turning its head to seek out the last mortal it sensed on itself. He had to guess where it would be looking.

It was time. Rather, he was out of time. Murdon strained against the flow of mana within him, pushing the inflowing river to stop, and then to reverse course. The second wave of mana he wielded flickered once, then tethered to his legs. Murdon was flying again, out in front of the dragon. He gathered the rest of the mana within him and set it aflame with dark light like he had before and would never again. Time didn’t slow as he fell towards the dragon’s mouth. The Octyrrum was unwilling to give him anything more in this last moment. For a second, it almost seemed like his enemy wouldn’t take the bait. Its dead, furious eyes tracked him, looking to the ground, making its own feral calculations. Then it opened its mouth, savagely prideful as if it thought Murdon had made a mistake.

The teeth were as long as he was and wider at the base. It didn’t need to bite him, but it would try. The mouth was already closing to meet Murdon as black smoke filled with gold and blue filtered out of his helmet slowly. The trickle before the dam burst. It had to be enough, it had to be. As one drake closed its mouth, another’s opened shooting a torrent of the dark mist. Some spilled into the open air but a good portion of the initial burst caught the dragon. It reacted in pain but it had committed to this just as much as Murdon. The massive lips were closing around him, death soon to follow, when the dragon’s head turned violently.

The entire creature jerked to the right, spoiling Murdon’s trajectory and wasting most of his mana turned poison to the air. He was stunned. Did the dragon have an ability? It shouldn’t be able to fly like that, turn and dive so quickly with its wings nearly broken. Not at this level. His answer came as he realized what he was hearing. Like thunder, bellowed through the air louder than it ever had before. “FALLING STAR!” Gadriel had reentered the fight.

…

From behind and above the dragon had the Hero come, unnoticed by Murdon until the last moment. Tlara had begrudgingly told the wyvern to go where Gadriel had wanted it. The Hero had hastened when he saw Murdon climbing up the beast and understood. Pyrrhic victories were entirely within his realm as well.

Once above his target, Gadriel was faced with a problem. He needed to turn the dragon and deal as much damage with his dwindling mana as he could. Stopping Murdon from killing himself, however nobly, was an additional concern. Impacting from the height the wyvern had taken him would mean plunging straight through the wing and perhaps bone, if he used Falling Star on his sword. If he hit the right joint that could knock the dragon out of the sky, but it was too far away now.

It was fortunate, then, that this ability extended beyond just his sword. With a small amount of mana he could empower his fists, though shouting the incantation with every punch would be obnoxious and not add overly much. With a large amount of mana? “Ally of mine, will you follow me unto glory?” The question came with an intrinsic request. The wyvern probably didn’t understand his words in any way but could feel the impulse of mana in the same way Hunter understood how to allow Daniel to share his senses. Its simple mind compared the plea against the list of instructions Tlara had given it. She had told it to go wherever Gadriel had wanted.

The Hero smiled when he felt the acceptance in the lack of resistance to the flow of his mana. It lasted only an instant, this ability triggering rapidly and culminating when Gadriel shouted the incantation. Right after that, the wyvern began plummeting to the earth like it was weighed down by dozens of anchors, aimed right for the undamaged wing.

The principle involved was obvious to anyone familiar with weapons. The point of the sword could run through a man, while the wider head of a mace wouldn’t break through armor but would concuss anything behind it. Put in terms Daniel would use, the larger surface area of the wyvern both delivered more force than Gadriel’s sword and across a wider area. It was costly to affect a creature, and one larger than him. In a similar manner to Murdon, Gadriel had wagered his remaining mana on this play.

The difference was, his plan worked. Jerking in midair, the dragon lost its chance to take out Murdon and was forced to face the lake again. And where the wyvern had hit the wing? It hadn’t punched through entirely but had torn holes and strained the flesh there to the point of tearing. Already listing in the air due to the tremendous damage on its other side, the dragon was now no longer flying as much as making a controlled descent.

Gadriel examined the angle of descent, frowned as he saw the dragon was slightly off, and was then blasted off his feet by a burst of electricity. Thankfully it hadn’t enveloped him like before and set off the remaining ammunition within the dragon, but the primary target hadn’t fared so well. Even with its resistance, Tlara’s skyshock wyvern could not withstand the undivided attention of its better.

In the distance, the Hero could hear the bird-like cry full of anger and anguish. As he fell through the air he mused on how such an abrasive person could have that beautiful a voice. All avianoids were like that. Their singers could turn hearts without even using a power. One, in fact, could… What was he doing?

Gadriel realized he’d been knocked out of focus and regained his senses, engaging the magical device on his back. He had almost no mana left to him, not enough to use any of his other powers which might alter his trajectory. Without something like Daniel’s Jump to augment the effect, he didn’t even go a hundred meters in the air.

He was heading for the ground. That would obviously be the case, but the problem was he’d impact well before the lip of the rock around the lake, whereas the dragon would just crest over it. The wings would soften his landing, but it’d be a few minutes to get to where he could jump off and get to the others. It could all be over before then. Even with all he’d done, Gadriel’s part to play wasn’t over until the people east of him were safe.

What could he do? Nothing, besides consciously lessening the effect of the enchantment just before the point of a terminal velocity. Gadriel landed roughly in the dirt and hard rocks of the Thormundz mountain range. The dragon dominated the sky above him, but not for long. It would crash somewhere near the lake. Where exactly he couldn’t be sure. Murdon was trailing, the draconoid having activated his wings sooner. Bitterly, Gadriel accepted that at least one of them would be of continued use as he waved, then saluted. Both disappeared behind the cover of the mountain. Gadriel sheathed his sword, sighed, and began to run.