Tarangil’al’Hankor flew.

The sun shone against his back-- even though his scales reflected some of its energy, and more was absorbed into his solar mana well, he felt its warmth touch him as he flexed his muscles, wings flapping in a steady rhythm. It was fortunate that the invaders chose to sleep by day and travel by night. Golden Dragons were not powerless without the sun, but he wanted every advantage he could get in this effort.

He dropped slowly, passing through a faint wet wisp that barely qualified as a cloud. He could see the camp below, a sprawling, if organized, stain on the still beauty of the desert. There were fires blooming in the eastern quarter of the tents, and Tarangil could see faint shimmers of golden scales and the far more obvious flashes of magic over a dune in that direction. He knew that the other Masters, as well as some of the more powerful Adepts, were likely clashing with the human Masters of the camp. Tarangil could only hope they had drawn away enough of the enemy.

He picked up speed, his double-lidded eyes keeping the force of the wind from obscuring his vision. He let some of his magic flow around him until there was an aura of blinding energy accompanying his descent. Sure enough, he saw the flash of arrows come up to meet him, some ordinary wood, others glowing with power or even magic. The plain ones burned away, and those enhanced by abilities clashed with his mana, bouncing off or being consumed completely. One or two strained him, but nothing like the efforts of another Master would, so he ignored it. He picked up speed, and built up his Sunbeam between his jaws. He could see his target clear as day, untouched by the attacks of his forces.

This is a bad idea, but you must learn it yourself. Be sure to leave a way out.

The words came unbidden as he swooped in and released a massive burst of the sun’s power at a simple, unadorned tent set in the center of the encampment. He felt his magic spear out, superheating the air as it passed and making the rest of the world seem dark in comparison. It met a nearly equally bright flash of pure white in a half dome around the tent. As expected.

Tarangil would have liked to test his opponent, using long ranged magic and holding his more powerful abilities in reserve until he could see a weakness. Conflicts between Masters always followed that pattern--at their level, it was the little things that their abilities didn’t quite cover that decided the victors. That, or overwhelming power. But Tarangil couldn’t wait. He could feel the huge quantities of power being used less than a kilometer away. To follow the plan and protect his people, he had to move quickly.

Radiant Claw after Radiant Claw crashed into the tent, and each time it was met by the same bright white power. It felt… strange to Tarangil. He would have growled, but he was already preparing another Sunbeam. His claw slashed forward again, and the line of solar magic swept towards the tent. Yet again, light flared in a half dome around the tent. An excellent defense, though Tarangil could barely sense how it was functioning. It just seemed so perfect, almost… Massahn’s breath.

Tarangil changed the direction of his attacks, flashing back to the last time he’d used this tactic, when he’d been facing his death in a black-scaled, red-eyed monster. His magic impacted the sand around the tent in a near perfect circle as he continued attacking. The only result was black, bubbling sand and billowing smoke. Hells. Cursing his idiocy, he changed his focus and modified his spell formulations. His attack speed slowed down slightly as he concentrated on the variation on his Radiant Claw, but now each line of magic sunk into the sand, the heat spreading at a relatively slow pace and lingering in the ground. In the light of the desert’s own power, it didn’t take much time for the sand surrounding the tent to begin shimmering and sparks of spontaneous flame to begin appearing over the ground. No white light intruded as Tarangil turned the sand round the tent to molten glass.

The enchantment’s parameters didn’t account for that, just as he expected.

Still, there wasn’t any retaliation from a real opponent. Tarangil felt a worm of doubt creep into his stomach as he took yet another turn and no real power moved to challenge him, but in the distance he could see a searing column of pure light erupt upwards--Shan’s favorite spell. Tarangil felt his resolve harden, and he put that resolve into the magic gathering in his mouth.

Another arrow died against his Solar Armor, and with a roar, he released his Sunbeam, flapping his wings even faster as the magic streamed out. Instead of dissipating, it flowed out into the air like water, and Tarangil pulled on it with his mind, molding it into a dome of radiant magic. He felt his power draining steadily, but he held the spell. The arrows began dying away as archers were forced bac by the sheer heat of his assault, and Tarangil waited outside the shining dome of magic. Come out now, prey.

A cold feeling overtook him at the shoulder, followed by pain. He roared involuntarily, wings beating faster and taking him higher in the air. His Solar Armor had been torn away, not dispelled but overwhelmed, and the remains of the attack had made it through. There was a flash of white, and on instinct Tarangil twisted, pushing magic out in a variation of the Radiant Aura to aid his motion. Something streaked out into the air past him, as fast as any Sunbeam. He continued the aerial roll, already preparing a Radiant Claw. He snapped his focus back to the tent. His spell had dissipated without his focus, but his enemy was--

--the third attack took him in the stomach, he tasted bitter ichor. I suppose you were right then.

He released the magic into the air, forming it with a thought into a rough wing. Then he took flight in earnest, hurtling away as fast a possible, dodging another flash of white as he rose into the sky. His stomach though, was sinking just as fast. His only relief was seeing his dragons winging away from the battle, throwing spells behind them as they beat their own retreat. The opposing Master’s didn’t pursue.

Tarangil let out a puff of breath as he continued winging away. You win. He’d prepare his forces to begin carrying out raids on the invading army, as he’d been told to do. This conflict couldn’t be ended in a single battle. He’d have to win a war.

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***********

Maiz ran, feeling a twinge of impatience before he quelled it. Beside him, Hugan held Ziya cradled to his chest as he lumbered forward in full armor, still moving faster than any noncombatant could hope to match. Lila was on his other side, and Juya past her, and neither was struggling with their pace at all. Maiz himself didn’t feel strained, but he did his best to seem as though he was at least working a bit.

They were passing the strewn corpses of six-legged, furred monsters with vicious teeth. Maiz didn’t examine them closely, focusing on not slipping on the ichor.

“One’s an archer..”

Lila’s words were low, but she spoke with an ease that belied the fact they were moving at the pace of an ordinary man’s sprint. Maiz grimaced. He really should have thought of scouting out their enemies. He began looking at the corpses, now of the bipedal and scaled variety.

“Crushed.”

He didn't say more. He didn’t want to reveal quite how little this run was affecting him.

“Yes, likely the shield specialist type,” Juya cut in with the same calm as Lila.

Maiz felt a little shiver run down his spine. Like the man whose head he’d… reorganized, in their last encounter.

“Stop.” The word was a command, and Maiz halted without even thinking about it. Only when the consistent clank of Hugan’s running stopped did he frown. Had that been Lila?

Indeed, she continued in a whisper, gray eyes hard. “We’ve got to be quiet. Ziya, you have to stay behind Hugan until we’ve sorted the archer. Maiz, you’ll be good?”

Maiz nodded. No sense in talking.

“Right. Anyone got a more specific plan? I’ve never seen these titles before.”

Huh. Maiz was surprised that Lila had said as much as he had, but he was almost more impressed that she hadn’t tried to direct them into a battle formation without information.

There was silence for a moment. Maiz looked to Juya, but she seemed unwilling to talk for some reason. He opened his mouth, and another voice cut him off.

“Lila, you can dodge arrows right? Take the archer--they don’t have good defense. Juya, focus on the shield guy, just keep him occupied. Maiz, you can take out a fighter if they have one, or a mage I guess, and then help Juya. I’ll guard you with Shieldmate until I can move forward. Ziya, you can do that blessing thing, right?”

Hugan sounded almost nonchalant, his breezy confidence showing even through his whisper. Maiz closed his mouth. It was a solid enough plan. He voiced his assent along with the others, although he felt a little strange about listening to Hugan giving battle orders.

They moved forward quietly until they turned into the final room.

“Move.”

Maiz dashed forward, his standard mix of abilities already humming through his body and Ziya’s Blessing of Protection close around his skin. He slid past an arrow, trying his best to make it seem like an accidental dodge, and assessed his enemies.

There were only four of them--a heavily armored but short man with a shield who looked prepared to dash at Juya, an archer firing even more arrows at them at a preternatural rate, a man in robes gathering flames around his hands, and a swordsman moving to intercept Lila. Maiz kept an eye on the swordsman, but he still made straight for the mage.

Flames streaked out at him, and he skipped to the side, his Windblade sweeping through the spell as he continued forward and leaving it much weaker. He still winced, however--the air around the streaking flame had been hot enough to hurt his arm. Oops.

He closed with the mage as a line of fire appeared in the ground. He leapt--carefully, this time--over the flame, but it flared up as he flew over it. Hells. Quickly, he used Mana Projection to surround himself in his own magic. The effect was weak, and the enemy, a Pyromancer it seemed, overwhelmed it in a moment, but he was already through.

He landed, stumbling forward as he felt searing heat scorch his back, but he recovered quickly with help from Nightwalker. He sidestepped another bolt of fire, and shot forward as the mage readied another spell. Flames sprung up around the robed man in a solid cloak, but Maiz slammed his Flaming Strike against the aura with a grunt. The sound of the explosive spell seemed loud even to Maiz, and the spell pushed against his opponent’s defense. Apparently, this mage wasn’t highly ranked in the spell, because the flaming aura dissipated as Maiz slashed with his Windblade and let loose a subtle Wind Blast at the man’s legs. It was the mage’s turn to stumble, and Maiz took advantage of his distraction to slice into the man’s neck.

Right. Maiz turned, still uncomfortable at the heat emanating from the corpse. It had almost been getting tough to breath, surrounded by flame as he was. Just then, a cool feeling washed over him, and he smiled. Ziya.

He looked over the battle. The archer was already down, and Lila was engaged with the swordsman, weaving around his attacks with the grace of a Warrior Monk. Juya was doing much the same, though the way she was leaping around the charges of the shield user looked more like diving away from a rampaging horse. She wasn’t able to do much damage to the armored man, but he was engaged enough not to move away.

Maiz ran forward, eyes set on Lila. Juya was a Journeyman, she’d be fine. Lila needed--

--in a move so improbably graceful Maiz wondered if he’d imagined it, Lila turned around the spot where she’d dodged an extra-powered sword strike, and kicked her opponent in the neck with enough force to make Maiz wince. Her opponent staggered, already off-balance from his own ability use, and then Lila was on him with a lightning-fast series of attacks.

Maiz barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping, but he changed course to Juya, who was just managing to skip past another attack. In the instant before Maiz began his own assault, he saw the sweat on her face. She’d been in more dire straits than he’d realized.

Ambushing his enemy from behind should have ended the fight right then, but his windbladed staff bounced off the man’s armor with an strange force. The opponent swung around to face him, shield raised, but Maiz was undeterred. He let the man attack a few times, feeling the stamina drain from Fast Feet which had no doubt affected Juya, before he cast Blood Paralysis as the man readied another charge. He accompanied the spell with a dashing strike of his own, and when his enemy stumbled, he let loose a pair of strikes. They bounced off, and Maiz cursed under his breath. He was close to running out of mana again. Should he--

--an armored form came around his other side, and a sword struck down on the armored enemy just as he recovered from Maiz’s maneuver. Just like Maiz’s staff, the sword bounced away. But the second attack actually landed, doing almost no damage. It didn’t need to. Maiz stabbed his staff forward and wrenched up, feeling the last dregs of his mana pool dwindle away as his staff came free at the top of the man’s body. Armor clanged against stone as the body fell.

Almost immediately, another cool feeling washed over him, and he looked around at Ziya. She was standing serenely at the entrance to the room, her attention already fixed somewhere else. Maiz looked around at the others. Hugan standing tall beside him, shield hanging at his side. Juya on his other side, panting but still strong. And Lila, standing over her motionless opponent, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping from her forehead.

Maiz almost smiled, but he found it difficult in the presence of his enemies’ corpses. Still, he had a feeling that now, he could trust his team in a way he hadn’t before.