Azrael sat crouched behind a partially shattered pillar of crystal, his heart hammering ridiculously loud. James continued his charge towards Sophie, either not caring or not realising that Azrael had left him. It did make Azrael feel bad, but he rationalised it with Alena’s life. James could revive if the two of them died. Alena couldn’t. He wasn’t willing to lose her, after barely managing to hang on to their shared life.
“Wind Prison!”
“Holy Chains!”
“Bind!”
“Smite!”
“Bind!”
“Silence!”
Seemingly within moments of Sophie’s call, half a dozen spells flew through the air to strike James. Glowing with holy power the spells raced past Azrael’s hiding spot, briefly illuminating the crystal spire he hid behind. A heartbeat later, James was immobilised, his speed sapped and his movement slowed – slowed, not stopped. Even the half a dozen spells binding him with all their might couldn’t completely stop the unstoppable force of nature that was James.
Azrael tried to [Shadow Step] again – this time a little more cautious – but found his exit once more blocked. He hadn’t realised how much he’d come to rely on the skill. It was a bad time to make the realisation, with fully-armoured, combat-ready, spell-wielding Holy Knights racing towards his hiding spot.
“There’s one more on the loose!” Sophie called.
Her mage light rose up and then split into six, illuminating more of the cavern. Unfortunately, that also included his position, as the crystal he was hiding behind drew in and then threw out the light in a dozen directions.
“Over there!” Sophie shouted, pointing in his direction.
Azrael booked it, taking a route that would put the dragon between him and the knights. It was a suboptimal route, but ignoring straight up running into the knights the other options were to either run towards Sophie, run towards the cave exit and clash with the knights there, or end up at a wall and being surrounded. This way he at least had a chance of making his way around or over the dragon and finding a new hiding spot.
Jumping over burnt corpses and shattered crystal Azrael never even made it halfway too the dragon, before one of the knights clued into what he was trying. Calling out to his two closest comrades the three of them went to cut him off. A few more joined them, leaving him trapped in three directions.
He cut tack to the right, aiming for the gap between the front group and Sophie. The group that had just split to cut him off would now need more time to catch back up. It was a time-wasting tactic and Azrael knew it. Already, spells were flying in his direction, while the knights’ figures glowed with from the light of several buffs. Beams of silver and gold struck stone and charred corpses as he dodged them.
Stone, corpse, crystal; Azrael cast around, looking for anything he could use. Nothing stood out.
Worse, he was so intent on looking for something to use that he didn’t double-check the width of the latest puddle of molten stone and mid jump realised that he wouldn’t make it. With a blast of [Wind] he barely managed to make it to the other side, only to awkwardly land on a shattered fragment of crystal. It slipped out from under him, sending him sprawling into another puddle of molten stone.
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He stood up, realising that he was now standing on an island surrounded on three sides by still glowing stone. This was the very spot where he had fended off the dragon’s final flame. It was here that he had risen once more, finding the thrill in gaming that he thought he had lost. Survive a dragon, to fall to a sword. Somewhere, somebody was no doubt laughing. He knew Purity would.
Practically trapped by the large moat of molten stone, and with moments until the knights were on him Azrael planned a gamble – if he even had the right to call it that. While the moat kept him here it also protected him from the swords of the knights. It was only their spells that he had to be wary of. At best it would give him a chance to counter-attack. At worst it would give him a moment to think.
He ducked, avoiding an incoming spell and grabbed hold of the mana in the stone below him, before pulling at it with [Mana Mastery]. Stone rose under his fingers, forming protective wall. Almost immediately he was forced to duck behind it, two more spells flying towards him. One passed over his head, while the other collided with the stone wall, swirls of light dissipating at it struck.
There was a scream of pain and then more shouting. It seemed one of the knights had tried to cross the lava. A moment later there was a barked command and then the shouting subsided. He braved a peek from behind his cover, looking to see what was going on.
“Oh, rat’s ass.” He swore, as he realised why they weren’t shouting anymore.
Of the twenty odd knights that were there, roughly seven of them were slowly walking over the molten red stone, their body’s glowing with protective holy light. Behind them their comrades-in-arms were continually channelling buffs that protected them and their armour from the danger.
Briefly he considered sniping the knights, but dismissed the idea almost as soon as he thought about it. There were too many supporters for him to take out with his limited mana, even if he ignored their full-body armour. As for those advancing, if their holy wards could protect them from molten stone, he doubted any spell he could cast right now would damage them either. For the first time he cursed being so heavily reliant on mana.
Absentmindedly, he picked up a shattered shard of crystal, as he considered his options. Was there really nothing? Nothing he could do? Nothing he could use? Azrael assessed his mana pool. There wasn’t much. One, maybe two spells left. Neither of them would be grand. He needed at least one to make it across to the other side of the molten moat. If he made his escape when the first of them made it across to his position, he would gain twenty, maybe thirty seconds. Twenty for those who followed him across, thirty for those who ran around the outside of the moat.
He flicked the crystal shard away, watching it reflect the orange glow of the molten stone. If he had more time he would have appreciated how it captured the dull orange glow and strengthened it until it seemed to glow with its own inner fire.
He looked over the stone barrier.
Five seconds left.
He crouched down and began to channel his mana for his escape. By his feet were more chunks crystal, each glowing with an inner fire. He frowned. {Observer} tugged at his memory and his control over his mana momentarily wavered. He cast [Craftman’s Eye], even as he picked up as many fragments as he could.
Shard of Crystalised Dragon Fire
Accidentally formed from the clash of powerful forces amidst the heat of an epic battle, this shard is made from time-frozen dragon fire. It is fairly robust and despite giving off a slight light it emits no heat.
Charging them all with mana he drew upon the void energy in him, guiding a small amount into each and every one of them. The chaotic energy still felt wrong, like brimstone, oil and spring, but after weaving his shadow cloak, it had become extremely familiar.
He threw the shards over his shoulder at the knights who were nearly upon him, not even to check where the shards of dragon fire had flown. His hand was hot and he flung himself as far forward as he could with [Wind].
The explosion that occurred a moment later flung him far further than that. The dragon fire, finally free from its temporal constraints, once more burst into existence. Like the mighty beast that it came from it roared forth, unleashing a devastating fury on any that dared to oppose it. And like the might beast it came from it died, surrounded by burnt bodies and molten armour.
Azrael didn’t dare look back, running to the furthest darkest reaches of the cavern.