A Dragon’s Tale

Beth had watched the entire fight being desperate to help, but being completely unable to. She had felt a hitherto unknown level of disgust and revulsion at the necromancer's casual tone when talking about murdering children. She had been captivated and nearly spellbound watching Rachel duel Gonorran. She had looked away in horrified revulsion as the dragon -- her husband -- had brutality eviscerated the guards.

But in every case, she could do nothing but watch.

Now, as Gonorran's fireball streaked toward Rachel, she leapt into action nearly without thinking. She focused entirely on making the point of her shoulder solid and she sprinted. She rammed into Rachel's left side as hard as she possibly could to get her out of the way.

It only partially worked.

Her concentration broke the moment she made contact, but she did make contact. The stunned redhead flopped over at the impact, but didn't get completely out of the way. The fireball slammed into the outside of Rachel's shoulder, instantly immolating that part of her shirt and lighting her flawless skin on fire.

Rachel screamed in pain and crumpled to the ground.

She didn't move.

Knowing how crucial the first few seconds of burn wounds are, Beth focused all her willpower into making the palm of her hand solid, and then slapped Rachel across the face, hoping to wake her up.

* * *

A sharp, stinging pain jolted Rachel back to the edge of consciousness. She was dimly aware that the outside of her left shoulder felt like it was on fire. It probably was. She fought to stay conscious, knowing that falling into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness would likely cost her life. Worse, it might cost the lives of her friends.

She had to help.

She had to.

She could smell the stench of burning flesh and realized it was her own. Using some of the mere puddle of mana that she had left, she pulled all the heat out of the fire in her shoulder.

The burning sensation didn't disappear as the fire went out. If anything, it got worse. The pain was overwhelming. She was dragged kicking and screaming away from the waking world and into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.

* * *

Ethan breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that Rachel was still breathing. The fire in her shoulder was abruptly snuffed out. She was still breathing, but out cold.

She would be okay.

Growling, he turned his attention towards the man who had inflicted her pain. He called his hammer and spear to his hands and started launching them alternatively at the necromancer, trying to keep him off balance.

It only sort of worked.

Gonorran was kept off balance by weapons flying at his head, but Ethan couldn't get close enough to do any real damage. Every time he tried, he'd be blasted backwards.

*Alana, can you come down here and turn this guy into a fucking pincushion?* He thought as he flung himself out of the way of yet another fireball.

*On my way.* She said, though there was hesitation in her tone.

*Stay back and don't let him hit you, but Rachel's out cold and I need the backup.*

*Coming.*

As Ethan turned his attention back to the fight, he realized he had zero chance of winning all by himself. The necromancer had plenty of dead bodies to fuel his powers and he couldn't even get close. He momentarily wished he could breathe fire, but then he remembered how Rachel had dealt with Havorleth when he'd tried that move.

They dueled for a whole minute. The whole time Ethan felt like he was barely keeping up, and sometimes wasn't. Gonorran had hit him twice with fireballs. They hurt like hell, but he wasn't injured thanks to his heat-resistant scales.

The necromancer changed tactics after the second hit. Instead of throwing fireballs, he extended his hand toward Ethan in what seemed to be a pulling motion. He could feel his body starting to get cold, even in the bright afternoon sun.

Gonorran was trying to freeze him.

Ethan dodged behind one of the guard's bunkhouses to break the necromancer's line of sight, hoping that would fix the problem. It didn't. He could feel himself getting colder and colder. Throwing caution to the wind, he sprinted out from behind the bunkhouse and charged straight at the necromancer with his spear at the ready.

Surprisingly, Gonorran didn't blast him away this time.

It wasn't until Ethan was almost on top of him that he figured out why. The necromancer pulled a sword that he was concealing from behind his back. He must've picked it up from a dead guard while Ethan was behind the guardhouse, and he was going too fast to slow down.

Gonorran parried Ethan's spear thrust and shifted position to counterattack. With all his momentum pushing him forward, Ethan did the only thing he could think of. He spread his wings wide, creating massive air resistance and nearly stopping him on a dime.

Gonorran smiled wickedly.

Ethan felt a massive rush of wind hit him from behind, catapulting him forward because his wings were outstretched and he was bracing them to slow his charge.

He'd run right into the necromancer's trap.

As he hurtled forward, his enhanced reflexes kicked in. The world slowed just slight as he furiously twisted his spear into a defensive position, trying to parry the necromancer's thrust. He also twisted his torso to dodge it.

He did mostly avoid it, but not entirely.

A sharp pain erupted in his left side and wing as Gonorran's sword pierced through his side and sliced out, cutting deeply into the thin membrane of his wing. He howled in pain as the air-ram threw him over the necromancer's head and into the fence that ran around the compound.

Gonorran laughed. "You think you're the first one to attack this compound? You think you're the first to try and kill me? Surrender and I'll make your death quick, but I won't promise painless." His cold, all-black eyes seemed to radiate malevolence.

Ethan groaned.

* * *

Once her husband's rage wasn't coursing over their bond anymore, Taloni had managed to pull herself together a bit. It took a minute, but she got up and peeked over the railing just in time to see Ethan get partially impaled and thrown by the necromancer. She covered her mouth with a sharp intake of breath.

She turned to Serif, who had been watching the entire battle standing guard on the Argo's gangplank as Ethan had directed.

"You have to help him." The Fey pleaded.

"He told me to guard the ship; to guard you."

"But he'll die." The Fey teen begged.

Serif looked at the state of the battle, then called to the quarterdeck. "Anthiel, please take up the defense of the ship; Raklan and I are going to assist."

Anthiel hurried down the stairs from the quarterdeck, her rollable leather shield in hand and a cutlass at her side. Raklan looked like he was going to protest, but one stern look from Serif silenced him on that count.

The two men grabbed their weapons and started running toward the battle scene. All the while, Taloni was desperately hoping and praying that they would get there in time.

* * *

Rachel clawed her way back to consciousness, fighting tooth and nail every step of the way. There were several large bumps throbbing on the back of her head and her arm felt like it was still burning.

Fortunately, it wasn't.

She forced her eyes open despite her body screaming that they should stay shut. She did her best to block out the pain. She briefly considered healing her wounds, but she was very low on mana; mana that she would need to fight Gonorran.

Still, she couldn't fight while distracted.

She siphoned off a sliver of mana to heal her arm just enough so the torturous pain was reduced to merely excruciating. Another sliver made her headache go from a debilitating migraine to merely agonizing.

She saw Alana rush into the camp, drawing an arrow as she did so. The wood elf glanced her way and slowed, but the redhead waved her on. The wood elf hesitated, but then glanced toward Ethan and nodded.

Rachel struggled to her feet, her body fighting her the entire way. Being blasted into all of those objects had really taken its toll, but she didn't think there was any permanent damage. She started staggering after Alana, hoping she would actually be able to help the wood elf and her husband.

She only had enough mana left for a couple of fireballs, or maybe a few decent air-rams; then she was out. For this fight, she was almost willing to tap into her deep mana to power her spells in order to keep her friends safe. It was dangerous and probably stupid, but she was willing to if it was necessary.

She hoped it wouldn't be.

* * *

Ethan clutched his side as he lay slightly crumpled on the ground at the base of the fence. He started trying to heal the wound, though that would take some time. It probably wasn't life-threatening, but it was damn painful and would greatly hinder his mobility. Plus, his wing membrane was cut deeply enough that he wouldn't be able to fly until he healed it.

Fucking necromancer.

Gonorran suddenly snapped his head up, then whipped around and raised his hands in a defensive gesture. Ethan barely caught a glimpse of an arrow before it skittered off seemingly nothing -- thin air -- and spun off harmlessly. Alana had arrived and loosed another arrow. This one also skittered off of seemingly nothing and spun off harmlessly.

"Another piece of meat to play with." The necromancer grinned. "You'll make a fine pleasure slave for me."

Ethan growled and called his hammer to his hand. Once it was there, he paused. With his wound, he couldn't jump high enough to get over the necromancer so the electricity could arc down to his foe. He needed the electricity to arc across the air to hit Gonorran. That's when he realized what he needed to do: what he should've been doing with lightning from the beginning.

He started pulling electrons directly from his foe to charge his hammer.

The necromancer gave him a murderous -- but confused -- look as he could clearly tell that Ethan was using magic, but also clearly didn't recognize it. Alana took advantage of his distraction and tried again with another arrow, but this one also glanced off harmlessly.

Apparently, he wasn't easily distracted.

*Be ready.* He grunted through the pain as he continued charging his hammer. *I'm going to fry him with lightning and you put an arrow through his heart.*

Alana nodded. *It's a small target -- if he even has one -- but I will.*

Gonorran turned back to Alana and started firing a ton of mini-fireballs at her, the hot afternoon sun on the sand providing plenty of heat from which to draw. Alana dodged and weaved, then headed for cover behind one of the bunkhouses.

Ethan nearly had a heart attack when he saw one of the fireballs streaking towards her head, but it missed. Not by much though, and he saw a puff of smoke as one of the mini-fireballs collided with a tiny sliver of his wife's beautiful chocolate-brown hair, incinerating it instantly.

Gonorran then made the same drawing motion towards Alana that he'd made toward Ethan. He was trying to freeze her too. The thought of what that spell might do to his wife or their unborn child made his blood boil.

He roared.

Gonorran whipped around.

*Now!* Ethan thought to Alana as he raised his hammer, pointing it directly at the necromancer. "Eat lighting asshole!"

CRACK!

The electricity arced outwards, traveling parallel to the ground in the characteristic branching style of true lightning, but at a mere fraction of the power. It slammed into Gonorran's shoulder.

His eyes went wide.

He clutched his shoulder as Ethan heard the 'twang' of a bowstring. Whatever spell he had been using to deflect arrows had fallen, but the arrow didn't pierce the man's clothes. The arrow slammed into his leather vest but didn't penetrate more than a few millimeters before falling to the ground. The vest must be enchanted as armor, like the leather shields that several of the Argo's crew carried.

Fucking necromancer.

Ethan stood, clutching his side in a vain effort to stop the bleeding. He locked eyes with Gonorran again as he started charging his hammer. The necromancer must've felt him begin to draw electrons because He took an involuntary step backwards, glancing back and forth between the dragon and the wood elf. Alana had nocked another arrow into her bow but hadn't drawn it.

The necromancer kept a wary eye on both of them before apparently deciding he was still a match. He conjured two fireballs and launched one at each simultaneously.

They both dodged and then -- coordinated telepathically -- they both attacked at the same time. His lightning arced at the same instant that her arrow flew, this time she was aiming for his unprotected head. Ethan's lightning hit the instant before Alana's arrow. The sharp pain and impact from the lightning seemed to shake Gonorran's concentration because her arrow didn't completely skitter off completely this time. However, it deflected slightly as it hit the weakened invisible barrier... but it still made a shallow slice in the necromancer's cheek, drawing blood.

He staggered back, touching his cheek and looking at the blood on his hands like he couldn't believe it.

All that work for a single drop of blood.

Ethan growled.

He probably looked a lot more confident than he felt. The pain from his side was threatening to take all of his attention. He looked down to see his left leg covered with blood that had come from his wound. He hoped it looked worse than it was. He had been trying to heal it, but it was hard and took a lot of concentration; not the kind of thing you could easily do in the middle of a fight.

He was also getting a little lightheaded.

He hoped it wasn't from blood loss.

He summoned his willpower and started charging his hammer again. Alana nocked another arrow into her bow. Gonorran took an involuntary step back.

At that moment, Serif and Raklan made an entrance.

They were both fully armed with spears and shields and looked ready to do some serious damage. Raklan looked especially sour and was glaring murder at both Gonorran and Serif.

"Give up." Serif ordered.

"To the likes of you, never." The necromancer spat.

"How about the likes of me?" Rachel said as she hobbled out from behind the building she'd been blasted into. She was limping and was clearly both injured and in pain. But she was also clearly determined.

The necromancer gaped at her.

Then he looked around.

By chance or fortune, Ethan, Alana, Serif, Raklan, and Rachel had ended up between Gonorran and all of the remaining dead bodies. Cut off from his source of mana, he appeared to be reconsidering. He looked from Ethan's hammer to Alana's bow, to Rachel's fiery expression, to the intimidating sight of Serif and especially Raklan, who were rested and clearly spoiling for a fight.

"To the cave." Gonorran said to the sole remaining guard, who had been cowering behind a nearby tree for much of the fight. The necromancer started backing away as the guard turned and fled.

The wicked mage then summoned a hoard of tiny, marble-sized fireballs and started launching them at the Argo's crew. Serif and Raklan merely raised their shields. Rachel ducked behind a nearby bunkhouse and Alana leapt to join her.

Ethan just stalked forward, trusting his heat-resistant scales to protect him against these small threats.

It sort of worked.

They hurt like hell but didn't seem to cause any damage. Gonorran adapted by throwing larger fireballs at him while continuing the micro-fireball assault on the rest of the Argo's crew.

The whole time he was backing away toward a large hill. As Ethan dodged the larger fireballs and ran for cover, he saw the other guard had run into a small cave which Gonorran seemed to be heading towards. It was cut out of the rock on the side of a very steep hill, which is why he hadn't noticed it before.

Finally, Ethan had to dive for cover behind a tree as a larger fireball streaked towards him. Peeking out, he saw that Gonorran had turned and run towards the cave. He was holding his hands out behind him as he did so. He guessed it was for his shield spell, which was proved right when another one of Alana's arrows skittered off it. Moments later, the necromancer disappeared into the cave.

Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.