[Scene Loading...]

[Location: Northern Mountains, Uninhabited Wastes]

[Date: June 30, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]

"Stick together, men!" Artax De'Godfrey called loudly, his voice battling against the howling winds. "Use your Aura, if you have any left! No use freezing here on the mountainside!"

His words scattered across the grey and rocky slopes, whipped among the boulders and dead trees that clung to the harsh terrain. Ahead of him, the path wound steadily higher, vanishing among jagged crags and towering cliffs. Behind him, he could sense the flagging Auras of his men as they struggled forward. Several knights stumbled, their armor weighing them down as the bitter cold penetrated metal and leather alike.

Artax braced against another gust, planting his feet firmly as the wind threatened to topple him. He drove his sword into the frozen ground, using it as an anchor before pressing onward.

"Sire!" Artax's second in command, a man by the name of Constantine De'Minziar, fought his way forward. His face was red from the cold, his breath visible in short, rapid bursts. "Sire, we have to turn back! The men are weakening!"

"We received a report, and a credible one, that a pack of dire wolves is massing in the mountains." Artax snapped, scanning the path ahead for signs of movement. His hand never strayed far from his sword hilt. "We're not stopping until they're gone."

"But sire, they aren't going to affect the Kingdom!" Constantine pressed, grabbing Artax's arm. "The report said that they're threatening Cilia, the kingdom to the north of us! We'll be fine!"

Artax wrenched his arm free and rounded on Constantine. The knight took a half-step back at the intensity in his commander's eyes.

"The Kingdom of Athia has always come to the aid of our allies!" Artax's voice cut through the wind like a blade. "Cilia came to our aid when we were invaded by the barbarian hordes not twenty years ago, and before that, they've fought on our side dozens of times throughout the centuries. I will not abandon their people."

"But sire..." Constantine continued, his gloved hand gripping the hilt of his own sword. "Please! The mountain pass between Cilia and Athia is famous for how dangerous it is. In the winter it's entirely impassable."

"And this is the middle of the summer." Artax turned and started walking forward once more. "Come! Be of good heart!"

He ground his teeth together as he walked off. Constantine was a good warrior, but House Minziar was a house of cowards. None of their knights who had ever served underneath him wanted to go into battle, and that was just a fact. As he walked along, noting the labored breathing of his men behind him, he sighed.

"Activate Emblem of Valor."

There was a small flash of light from his chest. The silver medallion embedded in his armor pulsed with energy, illuminating the surrounding snow with a blue-white glow. Heat radiated outward, melting small patches of frost around him as the Emblem's power flowed through the group.

[Emblem of Valor has been activated]

[All Allies in the area have been given a 100% Stat increase]

[All Allies in the area have been given [Resist Elements]]

[All Allies in the area have been given [Resist Despair]]

[...]

The effect was immediate. Behind him, men straightened their backs as renewed energy flooded their limbs. Their breathing steadied, and the clanking of armor became more rhythmic, more determined. Artax nodded as he confirmed the effect, and continued his march forward. The path grew steeper, forcing him to dig the edges of his boots into the ground for traction.

He had worked hard to amass his Emblems, fighting for years through Leoncrest Academy, and then working his way up the ranks of the Imperial Forces. Some people considered him to be the greatest knight in the land, but he didn't know about that. There were several others who were almost as good, and as he had never fought against them, he couldn't presume to-

Movement. Ahead on the trail, a quick shadow darted between two outcroppings. Artax froze, his hand instantly finding the hilt of his sword. The metal was cold even through his gloves.

"What was it?" Constantine called, his voice lowered to a sharp whisper.

"I don't know." Artax murmured, eyes narrowed as he scanned the terrain. "Maybe a troll. Maybe just a deer."

It was a lie, of course. He had seen the briefest flutter of cloth, likely a cloak. Someone was waiting for them. The question was who.

Artax drew his sword in a smooth motion. The blade caught what little sunlight penetrated the clouds, the silver etching of House Godfrey's crest visible along the fuller. He took point, gesturing for his men to fan out behind him in a defensive formation.

They pressed onward, and soon reached the crags that he had seen from below. Here, sheltered from the winds, they made slightly better time. The path continued to wind sharply upward, though Artax knew it would soon level out to cross a flat plateau for about half a mile. It was that half-mile that would be the most dangerous, due largely to the fact that it looked quite easy. What most people didn't realize was just how powerful the winds in that region could be, funneled through the mountains at truly extraordinary speeds.

As they approached the plateau, Artax kept his eyes moving, searching for the stranger. He was sure he had seen... There! Movement again, but further ahead. Something very strange was happening, and he didn't have the faintest idea what it could be.

Did that mean he was going to turn back? Not at all. He hadn't completed the thirty-four trials just to be seen as a weakling, to turn away at the first sign of trouble. As they pressed steadily forward, he gripped his sword more firmly, its weight a reassurance.

"Something the matter?" Constantine was at his side again, hand resting on his own weapon, eyes darting nervously from side to side.

"Possibly." Artax kept his voice low, attention focused on the path ahead. Every instinct in his body screamed ambush. "Tread carefully. Spread the men in defense formation delta."

Constantine turned white but nodded, moving back to relay the commands. The knights shifted positions, creating a more defensible arrangement with shields at the ready. Artax crept forward, sword held at the middle guard position.

And then, he heard it.

A sound that turned his blood to ice.

Flap.

Flap.

Flap.

Heavy, rhythmic, and unmistakable – the beating of massive wings.

"Dragon!" Artax bellowed, voice thundering through the pass. "Run for the plain, now!"

He raced forward, boots pounding against the frozen stone. A dark shape shot overhead, momentarily blotting out the sky before circling back. Artax's mind raced through calculations and possibilities. They were trapped in a narrow pass – perfect for the dragon's breath attack to decimate them all at once.

"Move! Move!" he shouted, pushing one of his men forward as the soldier stumbled.

Ahead of him, the opening to the plateau loomed, and he raced through it as fast as his legs would carry him.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

A blast of cold wind hit him from behind. Artax spun, dropping to one knee as he pivoted, sword raised in a defensive posture. The dark form shot overhead once more, massive wings creating downdrafts that threatened to knock the knights off their feet.

His men came right behind him, and an instant later, a blast of ice and snow exploded through the pass. The temperature plummeted as frost formed instantly on armor and weapons. When the icy mist cleared, one of his knights stood frozen in place, encased in a block of ice, killed instantly – his face locked in a grimace of surprise.

"Shield wall!" Artax commanded, but it was too late.

The dragon flashed across the plain, then banked sharply, wings fully extended as it came crashing down. Four massive claws dug into the granite of the mountain's surface, ripping deep gouges in the stone. Its scales gleamed like polished obsidian, reflecting blue-white light from the surrounding snow. It must have been two hundred feet long from nose to tail, with wings that spanned twice that length.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The creature's eyes – deep blue with slitted pupils – fixed on Artax. It lowered its head, a deep growl reverberating through the ground beneath their feet, and began to advance.

"It's an ambush!" Constantine cried. "Run!"

"No!" Artax snapped, stepping forward. "Try to run, and it'll kill you in an instant. The only way out is through."

"We can't kill that thing!" Constantine's voice verged on panic. Several knights took steps backward, their resolve crumbling.

"Speak for yourself." Artax raised his sword, the blade catching the light. He grabbed his shield off his back – a heavy kite shield bearing the house crest of House Godfrey, a silver sword set against swirling stormclouds. "Form them up in a defensive position. I'll have a go at the beast."

Before Constantine could object, Artax charged across the plain. The dragon's maw opened in what could only be described as laughter – a deep, rumbling sound that echoed off the surrounding mountains.

The wind raged against him, threatening to knock him off his feet with each step. Along with it came bone-chilling cold that cut through his armor, numbing his skin where it touched metal. Artax focused inward, channeling his Aura.

"Activate Emblem of Heat."

A red glow emanated from a second medallion on his chest plate. Warmth spread through his body, pushing back the numbing cold and allowing him to maintain his speed. The dragon raised itself up, rearing to its full height before slamming its head down. Its jaws opened wide, and a blast of freezing breath swept across the plain.

An ice dragon. One of the most dangerous varieties.

Artax raised his shield and braced himself, feet planted firmly. He channeled his Aura into the shield, creating a faint blue barrier over its surface. The blast of ice hit him like a battering ram, the force of it pushing him back several feet, his boots carving furrows in the stone. Ice formed around the edges of his shield, but the Aura barrier held.

When the blast subsided, Artax charged at the monster once again, shifting his Aura into his legs to increase his speed. The dragon's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Alright, beast." He snapped, closing the distance between them. "Time to show you what a real knight of the realm is worth."

The dragon snarled, its head darting forward like a striking snake. Jaws wide enough to swallow a man whole snapped at Artax. He dove to the side, rolling across the frozen ground before springing back to his feet in a single fluid motion.

He channeled his Aura into his sword, causing the blade to glow with bright blue energy. The dragon struck again, and this time Artax stood his ground. He swung the sword with all his might, timing his strike perfectly.

The Aura-enhanced blade connected with the dragon's jaw, and there was a mighty blast of light and energy. The dragon's head jerked sideways from the impact, and a roar of pain and surprise erupted from its throat.

Rargh!

The beast stumbled backward, one claw raised to its wounded jaw. Seizing the advantage, Artax rushed forward. He channeled his Aura into his legs, muscles tensing as he launched himself upward in a leap that no ordinary man could achieve. He sailed over one of the dragon's massive claws and brought his sword down on the creature's right wing joint.

The blow didn't penetrate as deeply as he'd hoped, but the Aura-enhanced strike still cut through several layers of scales. The dragon roared in pain and outrage, its wing folding awkwardly. Artax landed on the thing's back, boots finding purchase between the large, plate-like scales.

He raised his sword high, the blade pulsing with energy.

"Activate Emblem of Strength!"

A golden light joined the blue Aura around his sword. The combined energies created a swirling vortex of power that extended the effective length of the blade. With a battle cry, Artax drove the sword downward with all his might.

Scales cracked and burst under the blow as the sword penetrated deep into the dragon's flesh. Thick, black blood poured from the wound, steaming as it hit the cold air. The dragon screeched in agony, its entire body convulsing.

Artax lost his balance as the creature bucked and thrashed. He was thrown from the monster's back, tumbling through the air before hitting the ground hard. He rolled several times across the frozen terrain, his armor scraping against stone. Pain shot through his left shoulder as he came to a stop.

Quickly, he climbed back to his feet, ignoring the pain. His sword remained lodged in the dragon's back. Unarmed now, he reached for the short blade at his waist as the dragon turned toward him, rage in its eyes.

[You have wounded Socrax, Frost Dragon of the North]

Artax's eyes snapped open wide as the notification registered in his mind. This was Socrax? One of the eight legendary Dragons of Calamity? Encountering one was rare, but when they were encountered... Well... All eight had been known since the first age, and not a single one had been defeated yet.

Perhaps that would all change today.

"Constantine!" Artax called out, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "Get these men out of here! Organized retreat, not a rout! Just get them out of here!"

His words were, once again, snatched away by the wind. Socrax seemed to sense his concern though, and started plodding toward his men, tail lashing behind it, gouging deep furrows in the stone.

Artax set his jaw, and drew himself up straight.

"You've already killed one of my men!" He roared, voice competing with the wind. "You're not getting the rest of them!"

He flew at Socrax, feet pounding on the granite. The dragon was fast, but Artax poured his Aura into his legs, pushing himself beyond normal human limits. His muscles burned with the effort, but he moved just a fraction faster than the beast expected.

The dragon caught sight of him and turned, but too late. Artax leapt into the air, propelled by Aura-enhanced strength. His short blade gleamed as he aimed for the creature's neck.

"Ahhh!"

He collided with the beast's neck, and drove his blade into the flesh with every ounce of his strength. The sword struck deeply, carving into the monster's jugular. Thick black blood poured from the wound, steaming as it hit the cold air and painting the white snow with dark rivulets.

Artax landed and stepped back, gasping for breath. His Aura reserves were dangerously low – he could feel the telltale emptiness growing within him.

"You have exhausted your Aura, little one!" The dragon roared, its voice deep and resonant like an avalanche. Black blood continued to flow from its wounds, but still it stood.

Great. So it could talk.

"I'm still standing here." Artax snapped, raising his remaining weapon – a small dagger from his boot. "Try me."

The dragon lunged forward, its massive head driving toward him like a battering ram. Artax snarled and raised his shield. He channeled the last remnants of his Aura into it, and as the dragon crashed into him – countless tons of muscle and scale – there was a blinding flash of light.

The dragon staggered from the impact, momentarily stunned. Artax was knocked clean off his feet, sent tumbling across the plateau until he slammed into a boulder. Pain exploded through his back and ribs. He staggered to his feet, wincing as sharp pain shot through his torso with each breath. Broken ribs, definitely.

Socrax raised a massive claw and brought it crashing down toward Artax. Quickly, the knight flipped his short blade upright, planting the hilt of it on the frozen ground and bracing it with both hands.

There was a mighty crash as the dragon impaled its own foot on the sword. Artax rolled away at the last second, narrowly avoiding being crushed. The dragon stumbled backward, roaring in pain and fury.

Artax leapt back to his feet, reaching for another weapon, but found nothing. His sword was broken – the immense force of the dragon's weight had shattered it, leaving him with just a foot of jagged steel.

He gaped at the broken blade, then slowly looked up at the beast.

Socrax seemed to laugh, a rumbling sound that shook loose snow from nearby cliffs. The dragon slowly lowered its wounded paw, black blood dripping onto the white snow. This wasn't going to take much longer, and they both knew it.

"Sire!" Constantine appeared at his side, shield raised. "What are your orders?"

At that moment, the dragon spread its wings and rose up into the air, climbing higher and higher into the sky despite its injuries. It circled once, then twice, gaining altitude with each pass.

"Get them to cover." Artax snapped, scanning the battlefield. His men were scattered, many injured, some still fighting to stand. "No. No, it's too late for that. Brace for impact!"

The dragon came roaring back down, tucking its wings in a dive that increased its speed exponentially. Artax braced himself, gritted his teeth, and raised his shield above his head with his good arm.

"Activate Emblem, Shield of Glory!"

The final Emblem on his chest activated with a brilliant flash. Golden light erupted from his shield, expanding outward in a dome that encompassed all his men. The barrier shimmered like a second sky above them.

Socrax struck an instant later, its full weight and momentum crashing against the golden shield. The impact sent shockwaves across the plateau, cracking the stone beneath their feet. The dragon bounced off, tumbling through the air to crash against the cliffs.

Inside the dome, Artax screamed as the feedback from the shield tore through his body. He felt several more bones snap under the strain, and blood began to trickle from his nose and ears. The golden light flickered, threatening to fail.

With every ounce of strength that he had left, Artax raced toward the stunned frost dragon. His vision blurred, blood now flowing freely down his face. Magic leaked from his wounds, spraying across the frost and snow in bright blue droplets.

The dragon slowly rose, shaking its massive head to clear it. It fixed its eyes on Artax, and actually laughed.

"You could have killed me. You chose to save your-"

"Ahhhh!" Artax roared, spinning and throwing the broken hilt of his sword with all his might. He channeled the last dregs of his Aura into the weapon, transforming the jagged metal into a brilliant shaft of light.

The makeshift projectile streaked upward, its trajectory true. It slammed into the monster's right eye with a wet crunch. Socrax roared in agony, rearing back as the light from the Aura-infused metal seared the sensitive tissue.

"Leave! Now!" Artax bellowed, his legs nearly giving out beneath him.

The dragon slowly rose and tried to fly, but its wounded wing made proper flight impossible. It stumbled and crashed again into the cliff wall, sending boulders tumbling down. Desperately, it crawled along the mountain slope, its massive claws digging deep furrows in the stone and snow.

Artax watched it go, one arm clutched around his broken ribs, the other hanging uselessly at his side. He saw the dragon disappear among the higher peaks, and only then did he allow himself to sway. He collapsed to his knees, then fell forward onto the frozen ground.

"Artax!" Constantine ran to him, dropping to his knees beside his commander. "Are you okay?"

"No." Artax coughed, his mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood. He spat onto the snow, leaving a crimson stain. "That sword... Was..." He sighed, gathering what little strength he had left. "That was fine steel from House Arnette. It was a graduation gift. I'm going to be in so much trouble."

Constantine laughed, though it was humorless, and he shook his head.

"Well, we'll get you off this place and back to the Capital. You'll be able to heal, there."

"No." Artax murmured, his voice growing weaker. "Not the capital. I'll never be a warrior again. My Aura is broken."

Constantine inhaled sharply. For someone to break an Aura... It was a terrible thing. A wounded Aura could heal. A broken Aura was forever useless.

"Take me home." Artax let his eyes close, trying to tune out the howling of the wind and the broken landscape around him. "Take me back to the Godfrey Estate."

He felt strong arms carefully lifting him. He was too weak to walk, and he knew that he would soon lapse into unconsciousness. The cold was seeping into his bones now, his Emblems inactive without Aura to power them.

As he was borne away, though, he wasn't concerned about his own health. He would survive, if in a somewhat diminished capacity. What might not survive was House Godfrey. On the decline for the better part of a century, it was one of the weakest noble houses now, and with him gone, who would take up the reins? There was only one person who could...

And Artax didn't have the faintest idea if he would be up to the task.

[Scene Close]

[Active Quests:]

[Return Home - Return to House Godfrey Estate]

[Pep Talk - Speak to Zeke about the future of House Godfrey]