Chapter 57: Battle’s End

On the far side of the battle, the remaining black dragon managed to free its neck from the bite of the shimmering dragon by pummeling the dragon’s body with its fists. It had tried using its claws, but like any other dragon, the multi-colored dragon’s scales proved immune to the claws. With a roar, the black pushed the glittering dragon away, belching its acid at the torso of the strange beast.

“What in god’s holy name are you?” It roared as it saw its acid had no effect. It had thought the dragon with the clear scales was an illusion or some other trick. After all, the colors of dragons followed their clan and he had never heard of a ‘Clear’ clan.

The black wasn’t really expecting an answer, but it was completely startled when the clear dragon belched out its own acid blast in reply. The black had been dodging arrows for the past while, so its reflexes were still engaged, and it shifted out of the acid’s blast on instinct. Some of the spray landed on its left arm but it chuckled away any concern. One of the first things the priests had conveyed were that dragons were immune to each other’s attacks.

“That doesn’t work, whatever you are,” the black sneered, its maw opening enough to show its sharp teeth. “Dragons are immune...”

Pain reached its brain at about the same time a sizzling sound reached its ears. Startled, the black looked down at spots of melting scale and burning skin where the clear dragon’s acid spittle had landed. Its eyes widened as the impossibility of what it was seeing reached its brain. The shimmering dragon’s spit was burning it – but the priests had assured them that wasn’t possible.

“Not to me,” the glistening dragon answered contemptuously. The voice drew the black’s attention away from its burning arm. The voice was ... light. Airy. Almost musical. A woman’s voice – but that was impossible. The priest’s having a woman in their guard would have been a joke. They were weak and subservient...

A glance down the clear dragon’s torso confirmed what his mind refused to accept. It couldn’t be denied. The dragon was a female. What if all women could do this, could turn into multi-hued dragons? What if all of them, in their dragon forms, could use their powers against the men? It would be the end of civilization as they knew it. Women were too weak to rule; such a state would bring anarchy and ridicule.

The black threw itself at the female dragon. If the black’s burning arm were any indication, it couldn’t allow the clear dragon to spit again. It wrapped its arms around its opponent, carefully protecting the hand it had damaged against that stupid knight in blue armor, and held her in place. Then, it brought its own teeth to bear, biting down on the shimmering dragon’s shoulder.

Vestra cried out in pain as razor sharp teeth dug between and through her scales. She struggled in the black’s grip, desperately trying to dislodge the black’s bite and its arms but accomplishing neither. For moments she struggled as the black’s teeth dug in, gnawing at her shoulder.

Suddenly, the black dragon released her in its own roar of pain. It stumbled back and fell, landing hard on its back. Vestra saw two figures in black rolling out from behind the black even as it fell. Her keen eyesight picked out two of the women from the cavern. They were the ones dressed in clothing made of various shades of green and brown. She suddenly understood the purpose of the colors when she realized it would be difficult to see them if they were standing still among bushes or trees.

She pulled in her breath to bathe the black in fire, but the two women darted back in when the black was down. Any fire launched at the black would burn them, as well, and she couldn’t do that. With a growl of disappointment, she let her breath ease out harmlessly and moved carefully towards the prone black.

The black dragon tried to get its feet under it but moving its feet at all was pure agony. It looked down at its appendages, not totally surprised to see blood soaking the ground from the back of them. It tried to move them, but they didn’t respond and the black trembled as it realized it had been hamstrung. Getting to its feet would do no good, as it wouldn’t be able to do much more than stand – and even that would be painful.

It watched the clear dragon come in for the kill, but it wasn’t dead just yet. With an angry growl, it rolled several times to its left, ending up face down in the dirt. With the speed of the hunted, it opened its wings wide and used its arms to push up, fairly throwing itself into the air with its flapping wings.

Vestra tracked the black with narrowed eyes. As it rolled, she wasn’t quite sure what it was up to but at least it had moved away from the two women who had moved back in to do more damage. They were very lucky the black hadn’t just rolled on top of them, but they’d been quick enough to dive away when it began to roll.

As the black pushed off and its wings flared out, she suddenly realized what it was up to. Unable to use its feet any longer, it wanted to take to the air. She couldn’t allow that to happen. If it left, it might come back with a score of dragons or more. If it attacked from the air, it would be too fast for the creatures to strike. A stray arrow might hit but they hadn’t done overly much damage so far.

Almost without thought, she drew in a deep breath. She felt the heat rise in her belly, and in her lungs a liquid mixed with her drawn breath. Pursing her great lips together until only a small hole remained, she blew her breath out, making a high-pitched whistling sound. As the liquid in her breath touched the air, it ignited into a great, roaring stream of swirling reds, yellows and oranges.

The black was not fast enough to evade the fire. For a moment, it clung to the belief the fire couldn’t hurt it – that, as the priests claimed, one dragon could not harm another with their breath attacks. Then, as its scales began to melt under the heat and the underlying skin began to scorch, it screamed in dire agony. It tried to flap its great wings, but they were already on fire, with great, gaping holes appearing along the webbing and the scales on the back of the wings falling to the ground as the wings burned. It screamed again as it was consumed until, unable to maintain its hovering flight and with barren wings flapping uselessly, it crashed to the ground. It picked itself up once, trembling and screeching before it fell back to the ground. It trembled once or twice, but eventually all movement ceased. The fire burned hot, and the dragon’s body collapsed in on itself even as it died.

---- ∞ ----

Teran tumbled yet again and yet again avoided the burning fire from the gold dragon. The three archers had the thing confused but it was only a matter of time. It had been minutes since Teran had found another arrow lying around and the lack of arrows flying from Bremer and Ledic indicated they were having as much trouble as she in procuring new ones. She and Ledic Scollaw had short swords they could use to try to fight on, but Bremer was reduced to diving and retreating. Without a third to concentrate on, Teran doubted she and Scollaw would last more than a few more minutes.

The gold had given them more than they could handle. Many of their arrows had found their mark in its hide but, though the monster bled, he did not appear overly weakened or even slowed. Her concentration on dodging the gold dragon’s attacks meant she had not had time to spare a glance to the two other battles being waged.

Finally, after dodging yet another fiery blast, she regretfully threw away her bow and drew her short sword. The dragon’s attention was on Scollaw, Bremer dancing back even as her breath heaved in short, shallow breaths. So, as the dragon breathed yet more fire at the older Ranger, Teran ran forward, hoping if she could get in close, not only would she be in a position to damage the dragon but maybe it would not be able to breathe fire at her.

She paused as she heard great booming sounds behind her, the earth trembling with each one. She dared a glance back behind her and what she saw weakened her knees. She tripped and fell, rolling to within a few feet of the gold dragon but she knew it no longer mattered. A new dragon had entered the fray.

Its scales were a milky white, almost see-through. Where the scales caught the moonlight, though, they refracted into a myriad of dazzling colors. It was only slightly shorter than the gold she fought, maybe thirty-five to thirty-eight feet in height compared to the gold dragon’s forty or so. It had two arms and was running on two legs. She could see no wings, but she had seen where the dragons retracted their wings against their back for protection or safety. The snout was just as long as the gold’s, and the teeth were just as numerous and just as sharp. The scariest part of it, though, were the milky dragon’s eyes – they were pure white with no color showing.

Teran swallowed and came to a crouching halt, one hand on the ground and her body poised to roll in whichever direction was the safest. She was facing at an angle, perpendicular to the two dragons and her attention split between them. She could hear Scollaw screaming at her, but his words were drowned out by the pounding beat of the dragon’s steps echoing against the pounding beat of her own heart.

Then, the shimmering dragon did the one thing Teran had not expected. The dragon barreled hard and fast into the gold dragon. The shockwave of the collision drove Teran to her knees and she readied herself to roll out of the way but miraculously, the rainbow dragon’s feet completely missed her.

“Leave now,” Vestra roared as she shouldered the gold dragon aside. She had no hope the girl would understand her, but she had to try.

The gold dragon fell, rotating as it hit the ground so that it fell on all fours, its tail whipping to the side to counterbalance the white dragon’s attack. Unfortunately, its tail struck the red dragon behind the knees, dropping the red to the ground as well.

As the red fell, Gillen saw her opportunity. She wasn’t sure what to make of the white – or multi-colored or whatever – dragon, but for now it was attacking the same dragons as her company. She could live with it, for now, while it was still on their side.

Yren had managed to kill one of the blacks she and the other knights had been facing and the other black appeared to be a burning heap of meat maybe a hundred yards away, courtesy of the clear dragon. After the black, Yren had turned his attention to the yellow which had been chasing Syl. Tergin was maybe twenty feet on her right, but he was hurt and moving stiffly – he had taken a glancing blow from the red’s tail. Uud was down and possibly dead. Her subordinate had taken at least a glancing stream of fire and had not moved since. The Knottline Guard contingent was down to single figures, some of them stomped on and others either blasted with fire, acid or the steam-bath which was the yellow dragon’s attack. She was relieved to see Dakin Oovert in their number. He was the best trained of the Guard.

Her thoughts quickly moved back to the battle. The battlefield was becoming worn, and she couldn’t be sure of the turf beneath her feet. There were still patches of acid dotting the landscape, courtesy of the fallen black dragon’s spittle, as well as a few patches where the grass had not burned itself out. Added to the gouges and clumps of the dragons’ attacks and the broken pieces of wagons, tents, and other camping gear littered about and simply moving was becoming hazardous.

Still, the red falling was too good an opportunity to pass up. “To me! To me!” she called, her throat hoarse from the dust and debris strewn upon the wind during the battle. Even as she called out, she was running towards the red’s head, her sword in her right hand and Uud’s sword in her left. She’d discarded the shield ages ago as it had proven useless against the dragon’s attacks.

For a fraction of a moment, her mind took in the picture of the battlefield. The damage and debris ringed them, a stark contrast to her armor shining in the moonlight. A dragon laid low near her, it’s eyes open and arms stretched to move, its amber scales shimmering in the faint glow of the moon. Behind it and to the left were two other dragons – one white, standing upright above the fallen gold, their silhouettes a dark shadow over the forest in the background. To the right, a yellow dragon breathing super-heated steam at two knights, one burning in blue fire, diving out of the way.

The swords in her hands gleamed as she held them at her sides with the points up and at the ready. Even the strange etchings along the blade seemed to glow with a blue light all their own. Yren had made the swords and given them to the knights and Guards in Hasp, and she had insisted that the Guards which didn’t accompany her on her journey to Callisto give the swords to the Knottline Guards who would. In the end, her plan was to collect them and have Yren give them as a gift to the Queen’s knights. She had some faint hopes it would be enough to get him a knighthood.

Then, the moment was over and the battle continued. She neared the snout of the red, its head already lifting slightly. The nostrils of the dragon flared and it snorted, blasting Gillen with its heavy breath and bringing her to a standstill for no more than a moment.

The moment was enough. The red’s head lifted until it was far too high for the knight to reach. Gillen didn’t let that stop her. She accelerated again, her path changing towards the dragon’s legs, what would be its knees still on the ground. The dragon was still righting itself and didn’t realize the danger. Before it could move, she slashed at the legs, the kern blades digging deep near the knee. Feverishly, Gillen sawed the blades, trying to carve the leg down towards the foot.

The red dragon howled in agony and faster than she could have imagined, its huge paw swung down and slammed into her, driving her against the beast’s leg. She felt herself being crushed against the leg and her breath was driven from her. Her armor rang as the beast lifted its hand to deliver another blow, but Gillen was already falling down, to her knees, trying to somehow get breath back into her lungs. The dragon’s own blow drove the two swords even deeper into its legs, until not even the hilts of the blades could be seen. Once again, the dragon howled into the night.

Tergin was in pain, quite possibly more pain than he’d ever felt before. He was fairly sure his right leg was broken, though his armor was allowing him to stand on it and even move, in a fashion. His left arm was likewise probably broken, and, based on the steady amount of blood he was coughing up, he was fairly certain he had a few ribs that were bruised if not also broken. His breastplate had a deep crack along the cuirass, running from just under the pauldron and stopping just before the culet. The plackart was dented in a seam along the same path as the crack but so far seemed unbroken. At this point, the plackart was likely the only thing holding his upper armor together. His cuisses were dented, the left bent inward digging into his leg and the right one almost folded into a seam.

Still, he was a knight and he would not give up. He reached the inner part of the same leg Gillen attacked just as the dragon was rearing back for its second blow. With a pained grunt, he thrust his sword up as high as he could reach and into the knee joint, using his forward momentum to try to push it in deep. Tergin knew the joints of any beast were weak points and he could only hope he’d damage it enough to give them some kind of advantage.

His leg buckled as his sword hit bone and he found himself driven to his knees, even as he coughed up yet another round of blood. He’d not let go of his sword, so he was surprised as it sliced down the knee joint rather easily, revealing the hidden hilts of Gillen’s blades. He withdrew his sword even as he sat hard on his butt, the sword clattering from his weakened grip. He tried to catch his breath, but it just wouldn’t come.

He looked over and saw four Knottline Guards attacking the other leg, their swords hacking at it. Deep gouges appeared on the leg and a massive amount of blood was spurting from one apparently deep cut. He heard the dragon howling above him, but it seemed so far away.

Tergin was tired. So tired. He’d given everything he had and now he could barely stand and couldn’t get enough breath to keep him going. Darkness ran along the edges of his vision, but he willed the darkness back. He would not pass out. He still had a job to do.

The red dragon tried to rise but found no strength in its legs. It looked down at the insignificant little gnats hacking at one of its legs, amazed at the amount of blood they’d already drawn and the amount of blood fountaining from the inner side of its leg. It tried to draw breath but struggled to suck in enough air. Its heart was beating so fast it felt as if it were trying to pound its way out of his chest. Strangely, its vision was darkening, and it suddenly felt cold, the heat in its belly ebbing away into nothing. It opened its mouth, trying once again to breathe its fire, but nothing came out. Slowly, its eyes widening, it felt itself tipping forward. It dropped to the ground, its snout bouncing off the dirt until it turned sideways, and the side of his head contacted the hard ground. The red tried to rise but couldn’t, its heart hammering so hard and fast that it felt like its entire chest was being beaten from the inside. It drew in a single breath, then its eyes glazed over as its final breath slowly blew its way out.

Syl was running behind Yren amazed she was still alive. The yellow dragon blasted them with its steam breath over and over, but each time Yren would spin his midnight blades in front of him in response and the steam would seem to get sucked into the blade’s blackened vortex. The swords Yren held frightened her, they seemed to be almost alive. The blades were burning but it was a fire Syl had never seen before. It was a black fire, a fire that was nearly unseen in the darkness of the moonlit world. The blades themselves were so dark they seemed to suck at the very light around them. They were dark, evil blades and she was grateful they were on her side.

“Down!” Yren yelled harshly, diving into a roll on the ground. Syl followed him down awkwardly, tumbling forward but careful not to get too close. She feared touching either his burning blue armor or the swords in his hands almost as much as the dragon.

The yellow beast’s hand swept over them in the area they had just been standing. The wind of the hand’s passing crossed over her even as she rolled forward. Yren was miraculously already standing but it would take her a few minutes to accomplish the feat. Her armor weighed close to fifty pounds, so it was not as easy for her to recover, even from a crouch. She was lucky she’d not finished on her back because armor was not meant to bend the correct way for a knight to gain her feet from on her back.

As she stood, the yellow breathed anew and once again Yren spun his swords, the steam seeming to get sucked up in that spinning maelstrom. This time, she was close enough to hear Yren grunt as he spun his blades, and she realized the younger man was getting tired. Gods knew she was near exhausted, and she’d not been on the battlefield as long, nor taken anywhere near the punishment.

“Leave now!” Vestra yelled, standing bent over the gold dragon, her hands raised and claws ready. “Leave and never come back!”

“Itra?” the gold dragon asked in astonishment, crouching on all fours. The gold dragon’s eyes were wide, and its mouth was open just a bit in disbelief. “Itra, is that you?”

Vestra straightened, her eyes going wide. She took an involuntary step back. “Daorba?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

Daorba looked at her with stunned eyes. “What has happened to you? What has become of you?”

Vestra looked down, holding her hands in front of her. “It is ... my form. It is what I look like as a ri’Dagowyn.”

Dorba’s head fell. “Then it is true. Chaos has corrupted your form. Chaos has corrupted your soul.”

Daorba looked up, his eyes determined. He half rose, getting to his knees. “There is still time, sister. There is still time for you to repent. Take your punishment. Become whole in front of our god.”

Vestra didn’t answer, knowing it was far too late. She had killed men! There was no becoming whole for her. Not anymore. “I thought ... I thought they’d killed you.”

“They will, Ves,” Daorba said. “We are all to be put to death ... unless I come back with you. Mother is already being held in the vonat – the punishment box. They ... they...”

The gold dragon fought back a sob as he continued. “She didn’t fit in the box – so they broke her legs. She is to start the year of penance the day beyond tomorrow. Already the tuk’Cura clan are lined up with their hounds to take her. Father is to watch them violate her for the first day – then he will be sold as a servant.”

Daorba’s voice trailed off and his eyes closed. Then, they snapped open. “They will force me to watch our mother be violated like some whore – and then, I will be sold with our father. We will be less than servants to some metal clan.”

Daorba looked at his sister. “All because you have become a traitor. All because you’ve fallen from our god and given in to chaos.”

The guilt Vestra thought she’d overcome returned, ten-fold. It felt like a weight settling on her shoulders and driving her down. The world wavered in front of her as tears filled her eyes. She felt the fire inside her ebb until just embers remained. Her legs buckled under the weight of her guilt, and she crashed down to her hands and knees.

Yren used his vorpal blades to pull in yet another blast of the yellow dragon’s steamy breath. Although he wasn’t certain, he was fairly sure the steam wouldn’t be able to penetrate the blaze around his armor, but Syl was with him, and she would not be so lucky. So, he took another blast, letting Hatred and Rage absorb more of the dragon’s breath.