The Sage of the Sands waded carefully through the unnatural bog, trying her best to ignore the stinging sensation of the foul water around her ankles. In retrospect, wading into the knee-deep swamp while wearing sandals had not been the best idea, but what other alternative did she have? Whatever creature had made its lair here either wasn’t present or was hiding somewhere. She judged that investigating the central island with the massive tree would either coax it out or give her some hints as to what she was dealing with. So, as unpleasant and uncomfortable as it was, she took the direct approach. It was by no means her only option. She could have simply boiled away the stagnant water, but that would expend too much of her energy, and she’d rather save it for the actual fight.
However, the over-eager flame-flinger had severely underestimated both her unknown quarry and the terrain shaped by its presence. Unable to see the tainted pond’s bottom due to the brown-green water around her feet, she stumbled into a sudden drop in depth that made her plunge down to her neck. Her heels sank into the mud as she nearly got a mouthful of that nasty liquid, leaving her momentarily disoriented and immobilized. Her mind was then flooded with the indescribable pain of having a set of massive jaws clamp down on her left leg. Her scream of shock and pain was drowned out as she was dragged under, the polluted waters adopting a reddish tint from all the blood. The bog’s surface didn’t even get a chance to settle as it erupted in a gust of steam and flame that launched the sorceress through the air. She landed face-first in the shallows with a hard plop, her bright yellow coat covered in a mix of brown and red stains. She rolled over, groaning through clenched teeth while clutching the mangled remains of her left leg.
Everything below the knee was effectively a lost cause. It was all she could do to not black out from the agony of losing a limb in such a savage way. Yet, though certainly excruciating, it was somehow not the worst pain she’d had to endure. And though she was no longer able to stand, she wasn’t down for the count just yet. The lurking monster no doubt sensed this, as it still refused to show itself. This hesitation gave the magus an opportunity to tend to her grievous wound. Thankfully she somehow managed to keep a grip on her staff, which was surprisingly intact since that explosion she conjured was cast hastily and sloppily, and therefore lacked its usual punch. Though her blast was enough to free her from those jaws, it likely hadn’t inflicted any real harm to the creature. No, that didn’t matter right now. The important thing was that she had the means to invoke the spell she needed. She pressed the staff’s head against her mangled stump and just barely eked out three words of power.
“Ignum… adcurata… unis!”
Jets of flame erupted from her mangled limb as her very blood was ignited, then sputtered out in moments. It was the first time she’d had to cauterize a wound this severe, but the magic had done its job of both preventing further blood loss and numbing the flesh. Unfortunately the back-to-back incantations had strained her cheap focus, causing half of the staff’s business end to split off. It could no longer be used to safely channel magic, but it was still a sturdy stick. The adventurer gripped the shaft, stabbed it into the ground, and groaned with effort as she lifted herself up. She kept her left grip firmly on the improvised cane while her right reached for one of the spares strapped to her back. Things took a turn for the worse as she realized all of her back-up staves had been flung free in the struggle and subsequent explosion. She frantically looked around and spotted three of the five floating within several steps, but in her current state they were completely out of her reach.
The lurking monster watched all this transpire. It now knew significantly more about the prey that stumbled into its lair. The yellow human could conjure fire at will, needed those long sticks to do so, and was no longer bleeding. In other words, the intruder was weakened, but was still a threat that would not expire if left alone. Having gotten a taste of the sage’s magic-rich blood, the creature decided to press its advantage and strike while it had the chance. It waited a few moments more, watching from the murky pit as the adventurer frantically glanced around at her discarded belongings. Once it deemed its target was sufficiently distracted and panicked, it surged forward out of the bog’s deep end with a loud splash and made a mad dash for the wizard.
From the woman’s perspective, she saw a spike-covered shadow twice her size erupt from the stagnant pool and charge at her. She hurled herself to the side as best she could, narrowly avoiding the dangerous jaws at the end of that long and slender neck. However, the equally flexible and distinctly more muscular tail slammed into her midsection. Thankfully she took the hit with a blunt side and avoided the spikes running down its spine, but it was enough to throw her away and knock the air from her lungs. Luckily the muddy terrain worked to her advantage here, as the scale-covered bastard slipped and fell as it tried to abruptly turn around. It was another gods-damned dragon. Of course, it was. However, unlike the red bastard that started this whole mess, this one lacked wings and was covered in slimy black scales. Its body shape was also distinctly narrower and serpent-like compared to the barn-like proportions of its deceased mate. Indeed, this male and the red female from earlier that day had chosen this place of power as their nest, their mismatched essences twisting the land into its present state.
However, the sage couldn’t give a crap about any of that. She’d probably connect those dots if she had a moment to think about them, but at present her full focus was on surviving this. Having regained the bare minimum of air she needed, she hurriedly crawled forward for a bit and grabbed one of her discarded staves. She hoisted herself back up with the broken one she already held and pointed the intact focus at the dragon as if it was a spear. The nasty lizard looked ready to charge forward once more, but that stance made it reconsider. It instead leapt to the side, wary of what might come next.
“Tactum.”
A wise decision, given how something small, fast, and invisible ripped through the space it occupied moments ago.
“Tactum. Tactum. Tactum. Tactum.”
She repeatedly thrust her staff forward while repeating that word, each motion launching a ball of concussive force as if an arrow. Just because she specialized in fire magic didn’t mean that was all the Sage of the Sands could do. This particular spell was a simple incantation that was loosely translated as ‘Strike’ in the common tongue. It required so little energy that the sorceress could probably keep firing these off for hours, though the actual power behind them was rather pitiful. A Strike probably wouldn’t even put a dent in a dragon’s scales, but that thing didn’t know that. It was clearly a careful and wary combatant, and the wizard exploited that to buy herself as much time as possible. She could’ve just gone out guns blazing, but needed a better grasp of how quick the slippery bastard actually was. Wouldn’t be much point in releasing a massive attack that ended up getting dodged, after all.
Her feint worked wonderfully as the stupid lizard kept dodging like its life depended on it, though it gradually drew closer with every sideways slide across the flooded mud. Naturally it was positioning itself to strike, but black dragons were creatures of disease and deceit. With the sage firmly focused on it, she wasn’t paying attention to the heavily decomposed carcass of a wolf about ten paces behind her. The dragon used the magic suffusing its lair to puppeteer the body remotely and had it stand as if it were alive. The rotting meat-doll then ran mindlessly at the unwary spell-slinger. By the time she noticed its presence it was far too late to avoid it in her crippled state. The dead wolf slammed into her from behind, knocking her face-first into the muck before it fell over and returned to stillness. The sorceress barely caught a glimpse of the black dragon pouncing on her and frantically tried to roll away, though it was impossible for her to make it in time.
Fortunately for the ill-prepared adventurer, that lizard wasn’t the only skulker around.
What looked like a mountain of fur suddenly slammed into the dragon’s side mid-leap. The air was filled with splashing, gnashing, and growling as King Claw and the usurper rolled across the shallow bog. The saber-tooth was slightly bigger and stronger, allowing it to emerge on top from the tussle. It pinned the mutated serpent to the muddy ground and bit into its flank, its powerful jaws and massive fangs just barely piercing those troublesome scales. The dragon screeched in fury and pain, then retaliated with a whip of its tail to the feline’s rump. The strike itself was rather weak, but the spikes adorning the appendage pierced and slashed the saber-tooth’s hide. The stubborn predator nevertheless kept a firm grip on the slippery bastard that only came loose when it ripped an entire chunk of flesh out of the dragon’s side. The slightly smaller yet significantly quicker monster slithered free and rolled onto its feet as the saber-tooth spitefully spat out that chunk of meat. This wasn’t about food, or being the apex. This was personal.
Unfortunately, much like when the dragons first showed, King Claw was no match in a direct confrontation. The nimble lizard struck quickly and repeatedly with fang and talon, covering the massive feline in cuts that instantly began to swell and fester from a virulent venom. The sinister toxin rapidly sapped what strength the malnourished saber-tooth had left, leaving it paralyzed on the ground in about fifteen seconds. The same fate would have befallen the sage if she hadn’t had the mental fortitude to sear her leg wound closed, which also burned out the venom before it could spread. Speaking of, the woman in question had not failed to take advantage of this distraction. When the dragon next turned its attention towards her, she stood as firm as she could with the aid of her improvised cane, two of her reclaimed staves stabbed into the soil nearby and a third in her other hand. Complex geometric patterns of light swirled around her unsteady footing while ominous black smoke flooded out from her skin. The saber-tooth’s ambush had bought her just enough time for her to initiate her amplification ritual, and the widened distance between her and the dragon was her ideal range.
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“Ignum adcurata decantus dionis.”
She thrust her focus forward, producing a concentrated torrent of searing heat that moved so quickly it was practically a beam. It struck the flabbergasted dragon dead on, instantly burning a fist-sized hole clean through its torso. Unfortunately, while a tremendous wound, it wasn’t a lethal one. The sage’s aim was off, and she missed the creature’s heart. As such, the dragon was left reeling and thrashing, but very much alive. She expected this outcome, so she didn’t even wait for the smoke to clear before she discarded the spent staff and reached for another one.
“Ignum unis.”
Her next incantation was a quick and relatively mild one aimed at that dead wolf, instantly reducing it to ash before the scaly bastard could use it against her. The opportunistic creature naturally assumed this was its best chance to launch a counterattack and lunged forward yet again. However, while its instincts were technically correct, it was in a situation where ‘best chance’ and ‘no chance’ were practically synonymous.
“Ignum aetheris decantus trionis.”
The sage raised her staff skyward with a rapid yet steady chant. The aura of dense smoke surrounding her flowed straight up, kicking up a powerful gust that pushed away the foul water around her. It was obvious she was sending an immense amount of power into the heavens, especially to the dragon. It could practically feel it. There was no doubt something big would come crashing down on it in moments, so it abruptly leapt to the side in an effort to avoid whatever it was. However, it had already revealed a tendency to dodge left in a pinch, and effectively hopped right into where the wizard was actually aiming. A pillar of golden light crashed down on the dragon like the concentrated wrath of the sun itself, enveloping it in a blinding explosion that sent hot mud and boiling water flying everywhere. When the light show faded moments later, the dragon was left in a smoldering crater, its onyx-like scales now resembling charcoal. Yet, the blasted thing still clung to life. It twitched and cried in pain, but its monstrous vitality would allow it to get back up in minutes unless it was put down here and now.
It seemed as though it might get the chance to recuperate, as the sage collapsed to her knees, the smoke around her thinning. She panted heavily, her breath turning into a white mist while her entire body shivered. She had used up too much of her inner fire, and her body’s temperature had dropped so much one would think she was jogging naked in a blizzard. Forget conjuring magic - she could very well freeze to death unless she did something. So, she reached for the last of the potions firmly strapped to her belt. It was a good thing she paid extra for shatter-resistant vials, otherwise none of them would have survived that violent tail whip to the gut. It was even more fortunate that the one remaining potion was a concentrated extract of ashplume - the same herb she made tea from. Her quivering fingers fumbled with the small container for a few moments, but she was successful in uncorking it and forcing the simmering blue liquid inside down her gullet.
The sage’s body instantly reacted and, for lack of a better word, reignited. The dark smoke erupted from the scars on her skin once more and with even greater force, pushing aside even more of her already loosened wraps and clothing. A web of glowing crimson enveloped the flesh on her arms, legs, and face as if actual fire flowed through her veins. The woman screamed and howled from a pain that far surpassed losing a limb, but she resisted the urge to pass out with sheer willpower. With the blinding sensation subsiding and her inner fire thoroughly rekindled, she grabbed the last intact staff within reach and, without even bothering to stand, offered it and her spiking power to the heavens once more.
“Ignum adcurata aetheris decantus trionis!”
She shouted her final incantation, her usually quiet voice now booming like thunder, and the sun answered her call with all the fury it could muster. A second pillar of searing light fell upon the weakened creature, though it did not detonate as with the first. Though boasting even greater intensity, the energy was focused like a blade’s edge. It drilled into the ground, adding a shallow circular pit in the middle of the crater gouged out by the last one. Whatever water hadn’t already boiled away flowed into the hole and rapidly quelled the red-hot mud and dirt left in the spell’s wake. As for the dragon, the only thing left of it was a bleached and cracked skeleton buried in a pile of unrecognizable ash.
Thoroughly spent and exhausted, the sage fell on her back and breathed heavily. She was more or less back to normal after she burned off all that excess energy, but this sort of thing took a heavy toll on her heart. The way it thumped aggressively within her chest was almost painful, and would likely not settle down for a few hours. That meant she physically couldn’t take a nap even though she felt as if she could sleep for a week. That was fortunate in these circumstances, however, as there was one matter yet unsettled. Mustering her strength once more, the sorceress rose with her walking stick and hobbled over to where the saber-tooth still lay. It hadn’t escaped unscathed from her overwhelming display of firepower, as several patches of its mane were singed black. Those were only surface-level burns, though. Not enough to threaten its life and leave it in such a still, barely-breathing state. Looking at its clearly infected wounds, it was obvious the beast was suffering from some kind of debilitating toxin. Likely a paralyzing one, given how only its eyes seemed capable of movement. It looked up at the human as she stood over its head, its yellow left eye catching her own before it turned back to the horizon.
The sage was thus left with an unexpected dilemma. It was extremely unlikely the saber-tooth would survive without treatment, and it wasn’t in her power to offer any. Her magic was a tool of destruction, not salvation. The only thing she could do was end the beast’s misery so it would not suffer. However, she could not bring herself to do it so easily. She owed the fallen feline her life. If it had not intervened when it did, the dragon would have surely sunk its teeth and talons into her instead. Actually, now that she had a moment to think about it, why did this so-called King Claw interfere? Judging by the old, pus-ridden wound on its face, it likely had an encounter with the venomous lizard before and knew just how outmatched it would be. What could possibly provoke an intelligent creature to willingly throw its life away to save a complete stranger?
The adventurer looked down at the suffering saber-tooth as she pondered this, and realized its gaze wasn’t pointed at a random spot in the distance. It was staring at something near the base of the massive tree on that central island. A quick scan revealed what captivated its attention in its dying moments. It was the skull of another saber-tooth, picked clean by the scaly vermin that felled it when they moved in. It would appear the beast had sacrificed itself out of a thirst for revenge, not some sense of benevolence. Some might find it presumptuous to assign such human characteristics to a feral creature, but the sage knew that magical beasts could be as intelligent and emotional as any person. She wasn’t expecting to find one here, but now that she had, she could not simply put it down like a wild animal. Her savior deserved better than that, and though she could not treat its wounds or purge the poison, there was one thing she could do to give it a fighting chance. However, it would not work if the creature had already given up on life and wished to join its slain kin in the hereafter.
Thankfully, there was a way to figure that out. The sorceress sat on the now dried bed of mud and drew a small knife from inside her coat. She pressed the blade against her palm and cut it open. Her hot blood flowed freely, and she dropped a few dollops on the saber-tooth’s forehead. Their eyes met once more as the beast instinctively understood the significance of this gesture. Though it did not pay it much attention before, it now studied the human’s unmasked face as best it could through its blurry vision. It was a visage that would have been beautiful if its left side hadn't been utterly disfigured by extensive burn scars. The eye on that side was a milky, unfocused white that implied it no longer functioned properly. Whether by coincidence or fate, those injuries matched the ones King Claw had received weeks ago, and though the beast could not know it, they were also inflicted by the scaly menaces known as dragons.
After about a minute of this, with the two locking eyes and blood steadily dripping from one to the other, the beast suddenly moved. Or, it made an attempt to. Random muscle twitches as all it could manage since the scaly bastard’s venom had a strong grip on it, but it somehow managed to wrench open its jaw. Judging this a sign of acceptance, the sage lowered her bloodied palm to its snout so that the creature could lick it with just a twitch. It mustered what strength it could and did just that, making the woman wince a bit at the unexpected scraping of its barbed tongue against her skin. She then ran the index and middle fingers on her other hand across one of the saber-tooth’s many open wounds. She hesitated for a few moments as she stared at her bloodied digits, wondering if she should actually go through with this. She wasn’t worried that the ritual would fail. She was afraid of the uncertain consequences involved should it succeed - for her and the saber-tooth. On the other hand… a sheltered flame would never grow.
The Sage of the Sands willingly partook of the beast’s blood, just as it had of her own.