“Ready?”

Tarangil’al’Hankor looked over at the Saurian before him. The lizardman’s appearance was slightly disturbing to him--he looked too much like a humanoid dragon--but he still had to admit that the Dungeon King’s forces had been the model of politeness and efficiency.

“Yes sir, but...”

“Yes?” Tarangil was already trying to make out the invaders in the distance. His own forces would be invisible from here, and hopefully from the army’s vantage as well.

“There is a force of humans massing in the desert.” The Saurian man seemed… confused? It was hard to tell with them.

Ignoring the obvious reply that the presence of a human force in the Waste was the point of this operation, Tarangil turned his full attention back to the Saurian. “Hostile?”

“To the invaders, yes sir. They seem to be conducting their own raid.”

Tarangil let out a draconic grunt. “Let us see.”

He took flight, looping around the army encampment so that he stayed out of their line of sight. It was midday and the army was meant to be sleeping, but he still had no doubt that they would have watchers after the raid the past week. Even that attempt had been less of an ambush than he’d thought--as soon as he’d sounded the retreat, both sides had disengaged with equal ease, and his forces reported heavier casualties than expected for an attack on a sleeping enemy.

There. He could see the force now, far enough away to avoid the army’s watchers. One group was moving towards the camp, hidden by the sands even though Tarangil could pick them out easily enough from his vantage. An equal number of reinforcements stayed back, clearly ready to ambush the raider’s pursuers. It was the same deployment that Tarangil had planned for his own forces, albeit targeting the opposite side of the camp. But he had no idea who these people were.

A second army? This is the middle of the Waste--no, it must be the Temple. He had no information on how the Temple was manned,though apparently they could field an impressive number of combatants. This is an opportunity.

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A bit of stealthy flying at his maximum speed brought him around to where his own forces were massing for their attack. Illisere, one of the other golden dragon Masters, was waiting for him.

“We are ready.” Her voice was calm, but Tarangil expected nothing less from one of the Nest elders.

“There has been a development. The Temple is planning its own attack on the camp’s other flank.”

Silence. The other Master looked at Tarangil silently. It was a strange feeling--Illisere had already been a Master when Tarangil hatched, and he remembered the first time he watched her hunt, the awe he’d felt. Now she was waiting for his orders.

“Move around to the other end, but stay hidden. When I give the signal, attack.”

He took flight again, not waiting for an answer.

Soon, he was examining the scene from above again. The Temple’s raiders had almost reached the camps. When they encountered a guard patrol, all Tarangil saw was a flash of movement before the attackers continued forward. Impressive. Soon, they were in among the invaders, broken up into smaller groups. It took much longer than he expected before the alarm was raised, but when the army’s forces were alerted, they came out far more prepared than they should have been. More than a few soldiers had armor already equipped, obvious even from this distance from how they glinted in the sunlight. A trap?

The Temple’s forces were quite good—their retreat managed to seem natural while still allowing the soldiers to pursue. The armored warriors chased their quarry across the sand, robed mages throwing flame and wind at their backs. Tarangil was sure that, on the ground, the fighting was true chaos, but from here it was easy to see the patterns of the combatant’s movements. The Temple’s forces were at a disadvantage, but they’d managed to keep to their plan, and were heading directly towards their ambush site. Now? It would certainly be easier to finish off both parties like this, but… he had a feeling.

The fighting reached the dunes where the remaining raiders had massed for the ambush. When the trap was sprung, Tarangil tensed. Not yet. The desert shimmered, the sands unperturbed by the battle raging below. Until, that was, they erupted outwards all around the fight, and three people emerged from the sands, only specks from this distance. From one, a gout of flame blasted over the sands, engulfing a portion of the Temple’s forces. Another blurred, kicking up clouds as they sped around the battlefield. The army’s forces began to glow with white light as healing magic flowed from the final ambusher. The army’s Masters were exposed, and, if the blur of motion clashing with the second speck was any indication, so were the Temple’s.

Tarangil focused his magic, and a beam of the sun’s power shot down, carving a smoking black claw into the sand before his forces. Without pause, he dove downwards. It was time to fight.