A Dragon’s Tale

Rachel recognized the motion of Ethan's hands. She seen him do it enough while he practiced on the Argo to know he was calling his weapons. The logical part of her brain argued that starting a fight with a necromancer inside his compound and surrounded by guards was the worst possible idea.

At that moment, she didn't care.

One look at those kids while knowing what the vile necromancer was willing to do to them was enough. She waited until she thought Ethan's weapons must be very close, then gathered her mana.

The moment she did, Gonorran reacted.

He must've sensed it.

He whipped around making a sweeping gesture with his arms as he did so. A powerful blast of concentrated air threw herself and Ethan backwards. Rachel reacted almost on instinct and met his air-ram with her own to cancel it out. She started pulling heat from the hot, sandy ground which was baking in the afternoon sun to form a fireball.

The necromancer was faster.

He hurled a large fireball at her, she leaned back in an attempt to dodge, and then an idea struck her. She never would've tried it normally, but his fireball was hastily constructed and therefore large and slow.

She reached out and took control of the large fireball in mid-air, doing a pirouette while dragging the fireball with her hands and spinning it around with her to launch it back at the original caster.

Gonorran dived out of the way as the fireball carved a sizzling path through the air. He rolled through his landing and came up throwing both of his arms in her direction as he did so. She was caught off guard as a massive air-ram slammed into her, throwing her backwards at least a dozen feet.

She hit the ground, rolled into a crouching position, and looked up. The necromancer was calling to his guards and she got ready to attack while his attention was split...

Then she saw the kids.

Gonorran had gusted the tarp out of the way and onto the top of the cage, which allowed the kids to see everything that was happening. She knew how brutal Ethan could be when his dragon side came out and those kids didn't need to see that; they'd been through enough.

Focusing, she grabbed all the air molecules around the tarp and reoriented them. The resultant gust of wind blew the burlap tarp back down so it hung as before, concealing the fight from the children's view.

The delay cost her dearly.

She turned back to the necromancer only to be met with another powerful air-ram that she wasn't prepared for. She was blasted backwards and slammed into one of the buildings. Her head ached and she let herself crumple, hoping that playing dead would give her a moment to let her head stop spinning before she launched a surprise counterattack.

It worked.

Apparently, being a slim woman was enough to make the necromancer think she was frail and out of the fight. That was fine by her. As she lay there, she opened her eye a crack to track the fight's progress and saw Ethan fighting.

It was incredible.

It was brutal.

It was downright disturbing.

Ethan had disabled the disguise gem to reveal his draconic form and roared. The sound was earth-shattering and ear-splitting. Despite being near his roars before, this one was on a whole different level. The blind, primal rage conveyed through the terrifying sound was almost palpable. The roar seemed like a nearly physical force that stunned everything within earshot. Even Gonorran -- a necromancer -- seemed like he was rooted to the spot for a moment.

Her blood ran cold and she felt her body wanting to lock up in primeval dread. It would've been hard to move if she had been inclined to.

She wasn't.

She was biding her time for a surprise attack.

He didn't need her help anyway.

The dragon finished his roar and leapt forward with nearly reckless abandon at the half dozen guards that had been rushing him, but they were now rooted to the spot. He hit one square in the chest, knocking him to the ground. He opened his mouth and literally tore out the man's throat with his razor-sharp teeth. The dragon spit the bloody mass of mangled flesh out and used his spear to skewer another one of the guards through the chest.

The other guards finally reacted.

They raised their weapons and Ethan was forced to retreat to avoid them. Gonorran smiled wickedly. He started moving his hands as if there was an invisible orb right in front of him that he was caressing. Slowly, a green light began to form where the center of the orb would be.

He did this for several seconds before Rachel realized what spell he was charging. She was about to shout a warning to Ethan, but it was too late. Gonorran extended both his hands and the green light streaked toward the dragon.

Rachel summoned all of her willpower.

She grabbed every last molecule of air around Ethan and applied her will like she had never done before. She forced them all to change direction instantly, creating the most powerful air-ram she'd ever summoned to blast him out of the way.

It was barely enough.

Ethan was blasted almost twenty feet to the side and the green light missed him by mere inches. The light streaked past and struck one of the guards. His eyes went blank the moment the green light touched him. He crumpled like a sack of potatoes, dead before he hit the dirt.

Gonorran turned to face her and pulled up his hands for another air-ram.

Air-rams were tremendously effective in re-locating your opponents. However, since they hit the entire body at the same time with the same force, it was more like an extremely hard push than a punch... unless you could knock them into something.

Rachel rolled and the necromancer's strike missed. As she rolled, she used her close contact with the sandy ground -- which was very hot from the afternoon sun -- to gather enough heat for a small fireball. She launched it at devastating speed like a mini-cannonball.

Gonorran crossed his arms over his chest, then whipped them outward as if to ward the micro-fireball away. The fireball impacted on seemingly thin air and completely dissipated.

The necromancer looked at her with interest. "How did a child like you get so skilled?"

She ignored him.

Two guards were trying to sneak up on her. Without looking, she extended her hands rearward and blasted one with each hand. They were thrown backwards and she heard them hit the building behind her with a sickening crunch.

She grimaced, she'd never be able to do that to Gonorran; not being this far away because proximity mattered when controlling the elements, especially against another mage.

Gonorran was momentarily distracted as Ethan let loose another mini-roar before charging the guards again.

Needing to close the distance quickly before he turned back to her, she leapt into the air, firing another air-ram to boost her jump. She made it ten feet into the air at the apex, and as she hurtled toward Gonorran she blasted another one to slow her fall, before grabbing all the air in front of him, determined to knock him into the next kingdom.

She landed mere feet from him, but he had already turned his attention back to her and must've guessed her plan.

She could feel the air resisting her.

Proximity mattered when controlling the elements -- especially against another mage -- so she took another step closer. She raised her hands, putting all her willpower into this strike.

He responded in kind.

Then both took another step closer, each hoping to get closer than the other to the air under contestation. Both had their hands outstretched. Both had looks of fierce concentration.

Rachel grunted with the effort.

While mana was used to fuel spells, the strength of the spell was entirely dependent on the willpower of the mage. A mage with higher willpower could create far more powerful spells, regardless of how much mana he -- or she -- had access to.

This wasn't a contest of mana or magical knowledge.

It was purely a contest of willpower.

It was a nineteen-year-old girl versus a powerful necromancer who'd been practicing magic for decades; an evil mage who'd doubtless had ten times the combat experience that she herself had.

She held her own.

She couldn't believe it, but she held her own.

She could feel her mana being rapidly depleted as the struggle continued. Each was trying to take control of the air between them to blast the other away. Caught in a state of flux, the air turned into a powerful wind blowing out to their right and left sides as the ultra-high pressure air looked for an avenue of escape.

Rachel summoned the depths of her willpower, gathering strength for a final push. For some strange reason, she could feel her birthmark -- the one on her left shoulder that resembled dragon scales -- tingled slightly as she plumed the depths of her willpower for the resolve to beat this wicked man.

She was winning

She felt it.

He felt it too; She could see it in his eyes.

"How?" He breathed as the powerful winds began to turn in his direction.

"Fuck. You." Rachel replied, then released her coiled willpower into her spell.

There was the tiniest moment of complete calm as his spell was utterly shattered. Her formidable willpower had crushed it into non-existence and the air between the necromancer and the redhead was momentarily without a magical master.

Then her spell hit.

The massive air ram -- even more powerful than the one she'd hit Ethan with -- landed. The necromancer flew through the air like a stone out of a catapult. She dearly wished that air-rams were more like powerful punches because he'd be dead if they were. Sadly, the force was spread evenly over the body and so caused very little actual damage.

The necromancer tumbled a few times through the air, then righted himself as he began to fall. He used a gentler air-ram to slow and guide his fall, landing next to one of his dead guards.

He was smiling.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. Why was he smiling? She'd just handed him his ass and he looked very pleased with himself.

The necromancer extended a hand toward the fallen guard. Something flowed from the dead guard's body to the necromancer's hand. It looked like heat waves rising off the desert.

Dark mana.

Rachel could've slapped herself for her stupidity, inexperience, and for forgetting what made necromancers so deadly.

He was absorbing the negatively charged mana from the dead body to replenish his reserves. He looked so pleased because she had used a lot of mana on their contest of wills. He surely had too, but he could replenish it easily thanks to the plentiful number of dead bodies Ethan had left lying around the area.

She couldn't.

She had less than half her mana left and he had just completely refilled his.

"Shit." She breathed as he grinned.

* * *

Alana loosed another arrow. This one missed its mark because of the extreme distance and the target had moved before the arrow arrived. Given the range, she was finding it hard to hit them because they were always moving. She started toward the gangplank to get closer, but a small hand reached out to grab her dress and stop her.

Taloni was sitting on the deck with her back against the solid railing of the Argo. Her legs were pulled up to her chest and her arms were around her knees in a sitting version of the fetal position. She looked terrified.

"Taloni, what's wrong?"

The Fey teen shook her head but didn't speak. She looked like a small child who was terrified.

"What is it?" She asked after kneeling down beside the horrified Fey teen.

"I... I feel..." She managed to get out before she lost her nerve.

"Oh." Alana said as comprehension dawned on her. They were both bonded to Ethan, but she had long ago adjusted the walls of her mental fortress so his dragon emotions didn't overwhelm her.

Taloni hadn't.

The full force of his rage had made the wood elf physically stumble, even with her mental defenses.

The Fey teen didn't even have mental defenses.

The wood elf wanted to kick herself for forgetting to teach Taloni how to shield her mind, but it was too late now. There was no way she could learn it when she was this scared. She felt the emotions coming over their bond with Ethan, and shuddered to think what it must be like to feel them full force. She might be huddled on the deck too.

She glanced over at the fight, where Ethan -- or maybe the dragon -- was brutally ripping into another guard. His hands, feet, and teeth were covered in blood, and the rest of his body was splattered with it. He was ripping through them with the weapons that nature gave a dragon, in addition to the ones she'd given him. He was cutting through them like a scythe through harvest wheat.

Those horrible men were meeting a horrible end.

She shuddered and wondered if she should be more disturbed by the grotesque spectacle before her. Taloni trembling shook her out of her reverie.

*Ethan.* Alana called to him. *Ethan you need to calm down; you're scaring Taloni.*

*Shut up you elven bit--* a strange, enraged voice sounded in her head before being abruptly cut off. It sounded like Ethan, yet not like Ethan and she recognized it instantly.

"The dragon." She breathed as she recognized the primal side of her husband that was occasionally driven more by animal instincts than human reasoning.

She looked out toward the slaver's compound to see Ethan swaying slightly on his feet, as if trying to get his bearings. One of the guards was slowly creeping up behind him. Quick as a flash, she drew her bow and let an arrow fly. It embedded itself in the man's chest several seconds later, mere moments before he would've run her husband through.

*Ethan!* She thought to him sharply, hoping to jar him back to the Present. *Ethan, WAKE UP!*

* * *

Ethan came back to his senses with a piercing headache as Alana's voice rang out in his head.

He tasted blood.

His mouth was full of it and he spat to clear it. All around him were the bodies of the slave camp's guards. Not a single one of their corpses looked vaguely human. They were covered in claw marks, bite marks, and one had been completely ripped apart.

He shuddered and resisted the urge to vomit.

His hands and feet were covered in blood; saturated in crimson. He spat again to fully clear the blood from his mouth. The dragon had taken over again... and he had let it. The unspeakable evil of the necromancer enraged him enough to drop his guard against his dragon side. He knew there would be fallout; he knew he would have to deal with this sooner or later.

He picked later.

He turned to see the last guard fleeing toward Gonorran. The wicked necromancer was in the middle of a mage's battle with Rachel, and he was clearly winning. The fiery redhead was spending all her time dodging and very little time counterattacking. He wasn't sure, but it looked like she was trying to conserve mana.

Gonorran wasn't.

He was shooting fireballs and powerful gusts of air at the redhead almost continually. She was continually seeking cover behind anything nearby that the necromancer hadn't already blasted. Ethan called his spear to his hands and charged the necromancer, determined to save the wonderful redhead.

Gonorran saw him coming waved his hand at him. A powerful burst of concentrated air hit him everywhere at once, throwing him backwards almost ten feet. He landed, caught his footing, and charged again. Again, the necromancer blasted him away as he continued his relentless assault on the redhead.

It almost seemed like he had a vendetta against her.

Frustrated, Ethan launched his spear with all his might. That worked slightly better, but he was so far away that Gonorran was able to dodge. He called the spear back to his hand to try again, only for Gonorran to turn and fire a powerful air-ram at him.

He flew back twenty feet, only landing on his feet because of his dragon reflexes. He reached for the grenade satchel before realizing that using one would be a colossally stupid idea with the necromancer blowing things all over the place.

He growled.

Gonorran paused for a moment near one of the mutilated corpses that the dragon had created. He continued to assault Rachel with one hand, while extending the other toward the corpse. Something that looked like waves of heat flowed from the body to the necromancer's hand and suddenly the fury of his attacks nearly doubled.

That's when Ethan realized: it was his fault.

The necromancer was doing what necromancers do: draining mana from newly dead bodies. In his dragon-fueled rage, Ethan had provided him with plenty of fuel to work with. Of the original dozen guards, only one remained alive. He was clearly terrified and sticking close to Gonorran, guarding his flank. A crushing weight hit Ethan as he realized he had given the necromancer all the tools he needed to kill them all...

...and Rachel paid the price.

She was caught off guard by the renewed ferocity and speed of his attacks, and was hit by a powerful air-ram. She was blown backwards and was slammed into a building wall, dazed and struggling to stay on her feet. That momentary distraction was all Gonorran needed. He conjured a powerful mini-fireball and launched it directly at the redhead's heart.

"NO!" Ethan shouted as the fireball streaked toward her.