XXVI. IN AWE OF
Dragons were mostly seen as a cliché of old children’s tales, the existence of which had largely faded to the realm of myth. The dragon could be found in the stories from cultures across all of Silex, in one form or another. For the Lyresian people, it was a serpentine creature, deific in nature and often an omen of fortune or symbol of emperors. In Runandia and Briternica, it was a terrible blight to be slain, the hoarder of treasures and kidnapper of damsels, a generic and instantly identifiable foe for any hero's tale. Many attributed the creature to humanity's collective fear of reptiles, rather than any real flesh and blood entity that once terrorized the skies and mountains of Silex.
Even with the spawn of Dusk roaming free upon the land once more, a dragon was still beyond the realm of possibility for the race of men. Myths, folklore, old wives’ tales; this was the domain of dragons, not reality. Donough could see this written clearly upon the humans faces, the disbelief and frantic rationalizations. It’s not really a dragon they thought, it's big, but not a dragon. For them, these creatures were pure fantasy. Even for some of the Colby-Nau, such creatures were the subject of myth and legend. Yet some yet remained alive that had witnessed the reign and subsequent fall of Tiamat, had witnessed the havoc and destruction wrought by her fell offspring. Himself among them.
Aichlan tittered nervously and stumbled back a step. “Surely you’re joking…”
The creature roared again, drawing steadily closer.
“This is nae joke, General. ‘Tis a dragon.”
Donough knew that cry well, though he’d only been a boy of eight when he last heard it. The men were frightened, tired and some had not seen true combat, let alone the horrors of the dusk. The ranks were broken; some men were already in retreat and only three guarded the king. Donough drew his blade, casting a direful eye to the polished metal as it gently rattled in his trembling hands.
Reality was far more terrifying. From the darkness first came the scaly snout, like that of a monstrous monitor lizard. As it methodically inched forth into the ring of mage light, several men collapsed in shock as others began to bawl like children. Its snout was covered in spines and long, sweeping, spiraled horns like a gazelle accompanied by a sharp rack of antlers akin to an elk. The dragon sleepily shook its head and flicked its forked tongue, tasting the millennia old stale air now tainted by the tantalizing stench of living flesh.
A frightened archer let loose his arrow, and it impotently broke against the creature's hide. Its scales were like plate armor, rough with the color of a lilac tinged umber, covered in patches of lichen and moss. It was a long, squat creature, bowlegged and almost serpentine. The dragon flicked its tongue again, inching forward as it cast a far too intelligent gaze across the company. Each step shook the very ground, threatening to loosen stalactites.
“Stand the fuck down!” Aichlan screamed. “Everyone form up! Get Odell back into the blasted tunnels!”
The king's guard quickly shielded their liege between them and ushered him back to the tunnels. Several mages hiked up their robes and fled, followed closely by some of the less disciplined soldiers of Duvachellé. Aichlan swore and stumbled back, casting a reproachful glare to his men, as his quaking limbs betrayed his own terror.
“Do nae show the beast yer back.” Donough said gravely, his voice finally returning to him. “They feed on fear as much as flesh.”
Aichlan briefly cut his eyes in Donough’s direction. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
The dragon abruptly stopped, its body halfway between the ring of light and all-encompassing darkness. A staccato of screams from fleeing soldiers and mages pierced the silence. The sound of thunder and the crack of thunder rang out, and with it several men were split in two by an invisible sword. The Dragon slowly dragged its willow-switch like tail up to its mouth and licked the gore with its throbbing tongue, a tongue that had only moments before been slender and serpent like. The creature’s visage had changed as well, now covered in spines and horns with six glowing eyes glowering down at them with malicious glee.
“What the fuck-!” Taryn swore and fumbled an arrow attempting to knock it.
The Dragon's eyes flashed brilliant and dark at once, collapsing the tunnel on the half dozen or so soldiers who had made it that far. It flicked its tail once more, an appendage more whip than tail, and likely longer than its body. The dragon yawned, exhaling a cloud of black smoke and violet embers. Its claws seemed to have doubled or even tripled in size, the scales were more armor like, with a luster like obsidian.
“He daen’t seem too keen on lettin’ us oot alive.” Enyo’s forced sneer was betrayed by her quivering lip.
“Aye, no fucking shit.” Aichlan barked, his voice cracking. “I’m open to suggestions...”
Donough swallowed a hard lump in his throat and slowly tore his eyes from the creature to take stock of their forces. The king's guard admirably stood, arms at the ready, defending their king. Several mages milled about in shock or confusion, others piled together in sobbing messes on the ground. The regular soldiers that didn’t flee in the beginning, now reconsidered their decisions, and began to disperse. Curiously, the few clerics that marched with them stood their grounds in almost a serene acceptance of fate.
“I said form the fuck up!” Aichlan’s voice broke as his shouts barely broke the din of sobs and terrified screams.
The dragon drew back its head and belched forth a molten stream of violet flames, and scintillating smoke into a mob of fleeing soldiers. Aichlan and Enyo ducked with a startled swear and shriek respectively as the flesh of the soldiers was instantly vaporized. Donough set his face in stone and marched over to yank his commander back to his feet.
“There is nae escape General, we must fight oor way through.”
Aichlan turned his wide eyes from the dragon to Donough and back again several times. “Fight that? Bloody hell man…”
Taryn fumbled several arrows from her quiver before finally getting one knocked and let it fly. The arrow impacted so hard against the creature's hide that the wood shattered upon its scales. She swore and stumbled back a step, collapsing against Madden’s chest.
“Holy Dusk…” she murmured as she clumsily made the sign of the dawn.
Aichlan snatched himself free of Donough’s grasp and yanked the young mage to her feet. She was near catatonic, unable to even stand on her own. Aichlan shook her several times, and she responded like clinging to him like a child to its mother.
“Can your magic do anything to this beast?”
The woman buried her face into his chest, shaking her head repeatedly as she struggled to gain breath between sobs. The dragon belched forth another blast of violet flames, annihilating another group of fleeing soldiers. The king's guard ushered their king back to the edge of the circle of mage light.
“Listen!” Aichlan hissed as he held the mage out at arm’s length. “Can you and the others fight this thing?”
The mage looked over to the dragon and nearly collapsed in Aichlan’s arms once more. He held her up and shook her again, forcing her to look upon the dragon.
“We will die here.” He growled.
The mage broke free and stood on her own feet, and wiped the tears on the back of her sleeve. The dragon had turned its full attention to decimating the soldiers, now in full panicked disarray.
“I…”
The mage suddenly froze and dropped to the ground, unslinging her bag from her shoulder. She frantically rummaged through it, finally upending it and dumping several notebooks, tomes and papers onto the ground. To Aichlan and Donough’s confusion, she sat cross-legged and opened up a moldy book with yellowed pages falling from its broken spine.
“What the fuck woman!” Aichlan’s face had gone from a deathly pallor to a furnace red in an instant. “Now is not the time to do homework!”
The woman held up her hand and shushed him. “I’m onto something, be quiet.”
The dragon torched another group of soldiers, their screams echoed throughout the cavern as the creature stomped about after the last remaining men.
“It’s a dusk dragon…”
Aichlan bristled. “No shit its Dusk borne you stupid twat, now how-“
Donough placed a hand on Aichlan’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Dusk, fire, ice and stone. These are the four types o’ dragon, at least that is what the myth and legends state.”
“Correct.” The mage sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “And I understand this is a crisis situation, but I’ll not be spoken to in such a manner sir, my name is Tiffany Rose.”
Aichlan swore and forcefully shrugged off Donough’s hand. “Woman, we are going to fucking die here!”
“We need to distract it.”
The dragon wrapped several men up with its tongue and bit down on them with glee, allowing the blood to squirt out and dribble down its chin. There were now only about fifty duvachellian soldiers left, including the king's guard.
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“Well you need to hurry the fuck up then!” Aichlan shouted. “Tiffany.”
Tiffany threw up her left hand to silence Aichlan whilst tracking her place on the page with her right. Aichlan clinched his teeth in preparation for another dressing down, but the roar of the previously mute dragon caused him to flinch to the point of nearly falling over. The creature's roar was akin to steel gears grinding granite. Several of the mages found their nerve and launched a volley of fire, lightning and ice spells at the creature, only for the elements to fizzle upon impact with its hide.
“What the fuck….” Aichlan breathed as he slowly rose to his feet.
Donough curled his lips in a snarl and flung a fistful of flames at the Dragon, only for them to fizzle out upon impact. The caked on dirt and dust from the creature’s millennia long slumber clattered to the ground, and the dragon’s movements became much swifter as it grew accustomed to movement again.
“Alright, there is a spell to break the dragon's magical resistance, but it will take awhile. You need to keep it busy.”
Enyo dashed out from behind Aichlan and the stunned mages, propelling herself upward upon a gust of fiery wind. She spun, trailing embers from her hands and feet like a burning top, hurtling towards the dragon’s flank. As she drew nearer, she unstrapped her blade and slammed into the dragon's hide with the force of an eruption, and was briefly consumed by the backlash of flame and smoke.
“Oh shit…” Tiffany breathed in awe.
“Now tiffany!” Aichlan screamed as he charged the dragon himself.
The smoke and flames cleared, and Enyo floated gently back to the grounds on the currents of her own making. She was unscathed, but so too was the dragon. In fact, it didn’t even seem to notice her attack, or at least, it didn’t seem to care. Aichlan dug deep for both courage and stamina, letting out a primal battle cry as he barreled down upon the dragon’s ankle. He swung his blade harder and faster than he had ever swung it before, and was nearly thrown back when it merely bounced off the creature's hide. If it had been made of any lesser material and craftsmanship, the blade would have likely shattered.
Tiffany quickly gathered her wits and began the ritual. She poured a circle of salt and ash around herself as she recited the complex incantation, pausing intermittently to recall the next line. Her fellow mages held back, taking turns lobbing spells at the dragon and fleeing when it turned its cold gaze upon them. Taryn lingered by the mages side, ostensibly to guard her, an arrow at the ready. Odell and his retinue were nowhere in sight.
“I’ll need an arrow.”
Taryn looked down to the mage, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. “What the hell for?”
Tiffany pulled a dead raven and a weasel from her satchel, then cut both animals down the middle with a twisted crystal knife. She arranged the animals’ entrails in a peculiar pattern and placed several dried seasonal herbs and flowers on the stinking mess.
Madden shook his head as if shaking off a fog and stomped over to Donough. “Why aren’t you up there helping then?”
Donough looked over to see the hulking human trembling as he clutched his axe. He very much wanted to ask him the same question. Tiffany held up her hand as she chewed on a black root, beckoning to Taryn to relinquish an arrow. After a moment of confusion and an ear splitting roar from the dragon, she acquiesced.
“We should help…” Madden stammered in an attempt to psych himself up. “I’ll no’ die a coward.”
“Wait.” Donough placed a firm hand on Maddens shoulder. “When the spell is cast, we go for its legs.”
Madden swallowed hard and slowly nodded. His knuckles were white from gripping his axe so tightly, and a sheen of sweat covered him despite how cold it was. Taryn jumped with a shriek of surprise as the raven and the weasel were engulfed in violet flames. Seven pearls in the colors of the rainbow rose up from the flames and burst in a radian shower of multicolored sparks and shards. Tiffany rocked back and forth as she chanted her incantation, coating the arrow with the thick black sap of the root.
Aichlan cried out in pain as he was struck by the dragon's whip like tail, the impact sent him careening across the cavern. The remaining soldiers of Duvachellé either gathered their courage or realized the futility of escape, and turned in unison to charge the beast. Madden chomped on the figurative bit, inching forward as he grappled his own terror and desire to help his friend and commander. Donough placed a firm hand to his chest and shook his head. While not the most skilled warrior, Madden’s strength would be instrumental in taking the beast down once weakened, they couldn’t risk losing him so early on.
Tiffany levitated the arrow before her and weaved intricate and ancient runes in the air with sweeping gestures. Glyphs and runes of violet, azure and silver flashed before and circled around her. Behind her, her fellow mages fired volley upon volley of various magic at the dragon, their spells impotently impacting its scales.
No longer amused, or perhaps now fully awake, the dragon belched forth a stream of black and violet flames. Its movements quickened, and it began to focus its efforts on devouring or destroying the irritants at its feet. Taryn muttered a stream of curses and resumed her ineffectual volleys. Enyo bounced around on jets of wind and fire, peppering the dragon with flame and sword before flipping to safety.
“I’m out of arrows!” Taryn shouted as she reluctantly drew a knife with her off hand.
“I’m almost finished.” Tiffany said breathlessly before resuming her incantation.
Taryn looked from the mage to her knife with dismay. “Not like it'd be any good.”
The arrow began to drip black sludge and pulse with malefic energies. The symbols warped and danced through the air as the very shadows that engulfed the cavern seemed to come to life.
“Here.” Tiffany said, her skin had taken on a sickly pall. “Shoot it in the asshole or the eye, anything else will be wasted.”
Taryn hesitantly grabbed the still dripping arrow from the air. “You want me to do what?”
“In the ass or the eye, if you can’t make the shot give it to someone who can.” Tiffany snapped.
Taryn recoiled at the unexpected ferocity of the young mage. “Alright then.”
Taryn notched the arrow and drew back to its full extent. She took aim and grimaced as the black sludge got onto her cheek. Unable to get a clear shot of the dragon’s rectum, she took aim at its head and waited for it to look in her direction.
Seizing the opportunity, Donough clasped a hand on Maddens shoulder. “Follow me once she fires.”
“Huh?”
Donough planted his fist into the ground, creating an explosion beneath his feet. The ground buckled and lurched like a swell in rough seas, and he rode the wave of stone and soil over a molten stream of his making towards the dragon. The ground undulated and buckled, with magma bubbling up like pus from burst blemishes. The dragon's hind leg broke the surface and its toes plunged into a shallow pool of molten stone. In that moment, it turned its head back to see what had happened, and Taryn let her arrow fly.
* * *
The arrow impacted the creature's eye and exploded into a luminous shower of colorful sparks. Several symbols flashed in the air before it, and the dragon became engulfed in a sickly aura. Its scales appeared opaque and the spells that struck it now appeared to pack a notable punch. The dragon hunkered down like a beaten dog, attempting to shield its flanks whilst retreating back into the shadows.
Tiffany sat wide eyed and mouth agape. “Oh shit, that actually worked….”
Madden raised his axe and charged full tilt at the dragon, screaming like a madman all the while. He skidded to a stop upon reaching the dragon's massive leg, and drew back his axe like a lumberjack attempting to fell a tree in one might swing. The blade of his axe instantly cut into and became embedded in the creature’s flesh. The dragon bellowed in rage and agony, nipping at the now lethal irritants at its feat with new found fervor.
Several of Odell’s remaining guards burst from their hiding spots and charged the dragon as the remaining healers tended to the wounded. Enyo continued to dance around the creature’s head as Madden and Donough hacked at its legs. The mages concentrated their spells, alternating between casting ice, fire and lightning spells in unison.
Aichlan weaved between its legs, taking opportunistic swipes at the creature's toes and ankles before diving or leaping out of the way. More energy was expended evading the dragon’s footsteps than was put into attacking it. A group of duvechellian knights quickly rallied to his side, and concentrated their efforts at hacking the creature’s limbs before scurry away from the next footfall. Not all were quite so nimble, and their decimated ranks continued to dwindle. Their cumulative efforts eventually began to take effect as the dragon’s movements slowed and it remained stationary for longer periods at a time.
Yet still the beast fought on, randomly lashing out with ferocity one would expect from a wounded, cornered animal; though with a magnitude far beyond anyone’s ken. Effectively hobbled and susceptible to magic, the dragon wore down the already depleted forces of the interlopers, and began to push them back into a corner of their own.
Slowly, yet steadily, the soldiers and mages were picked off or decommissioned as fatigue set in. The wounded were carried to the tunnel, now collapsed and impassible, where an impromptu infirmary had been set up. The men were broken and tired after untold hours in the tunnels followed by hours more fighting the greatest predator that ever lived deep under the mountains.
Aichlan planted his sword in the ground and dropped to one knee. Blood poured from a cut on his forehead and robbed him of sight in one eye. His breaths were ragged and labored, his arm shook from fatigue and he felt his vision begin to tunnel. He was drenched in the thick black blood of his enemy, blood that steamed and smelled of a bog. Still, their foe showed no sign of relenting. Its tail flung men across the cavern left and right, and its black flames sent many running to douse themselves in the stream. Few made it so far, and fewer still stood back up after catching the tail whip full on. But the attacks were noticeably weaker, no longer eviscerating after a single strike, its flames no longer vaporizing flesh in an instant. It was scant, but hope nonetheless.
A monk scampered over to Aichlans position, his eyes wide with fear, yet his jaw set in a determined grimace. Despite dripping with sweat and nearly about to collapse himself, he embraced the Dawn for an instant, giving Aichlan the needed relief to stand again. They faced an uphill battle, but were not dead yet.
Aichlan adjusted his mail and limped back towards the fray, his blade dragging in the dirt as he weaved in as straight a line as he could manage. Unexpectedly, Enyo grabbed him from his blindside and offered a shoulder to lean on. Silently, they shuffled towards the shrieking dragon. A flurry of spells pelted the creatures hide as Donough and Madden hammered away at its limbs and underbelly. The creature was wounded, its blood spilling from several gashes to form a shallow pond at its feet, yet it refused to yield or fall.
“My great grandfather slew a dragon once.” Enyo rasped. “They say it took one thousand men one thousand hours to take down the brute.”
“And how long with two dozen?” Aichlan laughed and broke into a fit of coughing.
Enyo said nothing, she merely hoisted him up and quickened her pace. Aichlan forced himself to look up at the dragon as it loomed ever nearer. It thrashed about as a fresh caught salmon flopping on the deck. Its movements were erratic and frantic, as if the ants at its feet had become more than an irritant. A lance of flame from the ground struck it directly in the face, and the dragon drew back its head, swooning like a punch drunk brawler.
“Will you make it on your own?” Enyo asked as she gently eased from under Aichlan’s weight.
Before he could answer, she bounded off, each leap assisted by an explosion at her feet. Aichlan took several breaths before half jogging, half stumbling after her, clutching his ribs with his off hand. What he previously suspected as broken or cracked was confirmed, as each labored breath dug more shards of bone into his lung. Aichlan eventually collapsed, unable to continue on. He looked up just in time to see Enyo fall from the sky and plunge her sword into the dragon’s head.
The beast bucked and thrashed, flinging her into the cavern wall with a flick of its tail. The sound of her breaking bones and decompressing lungs echoed the cavern over the beasts shrieking death knell. As the monster finally collapsed, Donough raised his flaming sword overhead and hacked off its head at the neck.