FSE

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Chapter 9

The explosion had rocked the camp, lightning up the night in a single, glorious flare. All eyes snapped towards it, transfixed, pondering between their ears at what it could have been. The golden dragon gnashed his teeth and lashed his tail, glaring daggers at the now blazing wreck of a ship. Regardless, it was the perfect cover for the first group of gryphons to slip away unseen.

Unphased by such a predicament, the golden dragon had already started ordering about a search party. With a commanding roar and lash of his tail, he vowed to all that could hear that whomever these saboteurs were, they’d suffer greatly for robbing Dreadflame of his prize. Once a party had been summoned and dispatched, draconic eyes swept across the encampment, lingering, piercing, searching for Arcturus.

With bated breath the knight held tight the tent’s door as those yet to escape remained. To him their hopes rested, already saddled up and prepared to depart with their gryphons. Drenedar and Lumarian alike, there was no care of allegiance here. It was Swift claw that hung over his shoulder with Mug, they were to be part of the last group to depart.

“I still don’t get why we’re the last ones.” Sneered the kobold, chomping on some dried meat he’d procured from his bag, “It’s like you got a deathwish Lund.”

“You could always leave earlier. I doubt any gryphon would notice the added weight of a kobold.”

“Very funny, but no. Skywing would never stop tweeting about it. I’d not wish that fate on anyone, especially me.”

“And death is preferrable if I’m reading you right.”

“Yes.” Mug sauntered through the tent, crossbow in hand. “Now if you excuse me, I have more distractions to make.”

“Mug.” He hissed, “I thought you wanted to live?” But it was too late, the hushed cackling of the kobold disappeared into the shouts of the night. The knight could only dread at what scheme lurked between that scaled head. He doubted it would be subtle, or aid in their escape. Frowning he bid the third group of gryphons to depart.

“I’ll say this is going far better than we’d hoped.” Swiftclaw remarked in a brassy voice, tail tapping at Arcturus’ leg. “I had my doubts about the explosion, but I’ll say, that kobold sure knows a thing or two about explosives.”

“I’m just hoping they don’t get us killed.” Frowned Arcturus, as he spied a tent further down getting caught alight. It would seem Mug had gotten the idea to start burning their tents to the ground. “That idiot.”

“What’s he gone and done now?”

“Practically pointed out that we’re here.” Arcturus shook his head as another tent caught alight, sending a wave of fiery insects into the air.

“Oh come now it can’t be tha-“ Swiftclaw poked out his head, beak falling open before getting hastily retracted. “Should…Should we speed up the departures?” He turned to the gryphons all waiting with shifting hinds and foreclaws.

He didn’t like the idea, but that didn’t seem to really matter. He grit his teeth as Veledar’s emotions were creeping into him, a storm of despair and desperation. No doubt the leathery winged beast was on his return flight, pounding against the sky with tremendous speed. With a furrowed brow he waved the next group of gryphons away, grimacing with their departure. It was at the fourth group that Mug returned, covered in ash and a smile.

“Well, that should keep them busy.” The kobold chuckled, dusting off his leathers. “Should see their faces, nothing but priceless.”

“And for that you think it was worth it?” Arcturus was to him in an instant, eyes like swords. “Look around you, you’ve announced where we are.”

Mug scoffed, “No I havn’t. Hear them screaming out there? Shouting for water? They’re too busy trying to not have their things destroyed to even consider a few escaping gryphons.”

Thrusting a finger to the kobold’s snout, his voice was practically a snarl. “If any of us are killed because of this, that will fall on you.”

“Yea, yea pretty boy.” Mug casually shifted the finger, “Swiftclaw may want to suck your dick or give you a thank you fuck but not me. So, save all the talking, you ain’t the boss of me.”

“My word, you can’t talk to the paladin like that!” Swiftclaw squawked indignantly, feathers all fluffed, “And sir, I’d certainly not give you a humping unless you asked for it!”

“Just get inside and shut your snout. Pray to the gods that these dragons don’t sniff out where you’ve gone.” Arcturus replied, keeping his hand upon his weapon and eye on the door.

It wasn’t until the fifth group had leaped to the air did Arcturus’ heart sink as the sound of leathery wings passed resoundingly overhead. The coming roar was certainly not Veledar’s, the pitch was all too wrong. It pierced through the night like a lance, instilling it’s dragonfear to all that heard it. Brave men and woman soon found themselves with legs of jelly, speaking of surrendering for fear of what might come otherwise. Then came the screeching that chilled Arcturus soul.

The golden dragon of course had found the last group of gryphons, swooping to them as the apex predator that he was. It was over fast if that was any praise, a brief flash of his fire breath against the night sky. Mortals screamed with their gryphons into the night, encased in the ravenous grasp of his blood like flames. Whirling around he was like a demon, his burning victim’s light flashing off his scales. It was there turn.

No where to run, no where to hide. Arcturus clenched tight the hilt of his sword as the golden explosive dragon careened towards them. Was this how he was to die? Trapped in the middle of an enemy encampment and put down by the kiss of a dragon’s fire? Yet that was not how it was going to end, the golden beast grabbed fast the tent above and tore it apart with it’s sharpened claws. Fabric toppled to the ground, revealing them to the gathered hoard of steel around them.

“Together, together!” Arcturus called out, but knowing this was for naught. Only Mug and himself had any sort of weapons. Sure there were a handful of gryphons left, but spears and halberds were more than enough to keep them at bay, not even counting orges and trolls that could just as easily overpower them. He unsheathed his sword and brandished it before him, backing up with those he’d hoped to save.

Eyes of their enemy cackled with glee, gleaming in the firelight as they licked their chops. The air was filled with taunts, insults, colorful things that would cause any good person to blush. Blades were rubbed together, chests pounded in anticipation, it would seem they were to be the avenue in which their frustration of the evening would be placed upon. Though all fell silent as the dragon roared.

“Valiant attempt at a rescue dear mortals, but it does end here.” The golden beast announced, confidence drooling from every word. “Throw down what weapons you have or be slain were you stand.”

All around Arcturus, the men and woman spoke of surrender. Some even called for it, no doubt the dragonfear’s grip holding them fast. Not many could fight it after all, remain standing without trembling. Swiftclaw and Mug it seemed to be just such people.

“We’re not seriously considering it are we?” Whispered the gryphon, “I’d rather not go through another round of interrogation. My backside is still sore.”

“And leave them with my crossbow?” Mug scoffed, “No one touches my lady but me.”

Arcturus was the one to raise his voice, staring defiantly into the face of his would-be killer. “Name yourself dragon! It is rude for two beings to battle and not know one another.”

“Battle?” Taken back by this courage the dragon chuckled. “I am the Raging Flame little human, the terror in the night. Arrows and blades have failed numerous times to my hardened scales, and scores of your people to my paws.” He swelled his chest and puffed his wings, clearly to put on an intimidating display. “And whom are you to call me out? What prestige do you possess that I must answer?”

“Oh, you know of me.” He remained deadly calm, watching how the beast rose a brow, “I am Arcturus Lund, paladin of Bahamut! I command you now, take yourself and your misbegotten host you’ve assembled and leave, nothing awaits your kind in Struport save hardship and death!”

“You, give me orders?” The dragon scoffed, but clearly his legs shifting in unease. “Then speak the name of the dragon goddess as if she’d answer to a being whose family made their fame slaughtering my kind?"

"That I do. That’s why I gave you the chance to fly away Raging Flame, save yourself this day. These people beyond have done nothing to you, Dreadflame brings nothing but darkness to mortal and dragon alike.”

Raging Flame tossed back his head with a deep laugh, wings fluffing. “I did not know the Lunds were so comical. Look around you Arcturus, are you so deluded to think you’re in a position of strength? Your family might have perfected the way to slay my kind, but even you must realize that you’re surrounded, weapons ready to slice you apart. There isn’t a possible chance of escape.”

“And doesn’t that just scare you to death?”

“Me? Afraid?” The dragon laughed nervously, growling when eyes went to it. “I think you’re nothing more than a man. The last of a vile bloodline that needs to be expunged from this plane. One that I might add, is exceptionally fragile with no armor.”

“And one who will slay you should you test me. That goes for any who dare set themselves against me.” He replied sternly, brandishing his weapon, white flames bursting from the blade. “I have quite the fiery temper when I’m cross.”

The men laughed nervously at his statement, not sure if he’d done it in jest. Some taunted to him, made cracks about his mother. Others had their eyes dart to the dragon and back, unsure of what would come next. The gold merely tossed back his head in a mocking laugh, his tail thrashing against the snow.

“That is a good one Lund. You almost got me, that much is certain. How clever of you to upset me with the name of such a famous hunter family. They’d not be stupid enough to face me, triple so when in the center of such a host!” He shook his head, paw caressing his jaw. “I do believe I’ve humored you enough. Men, do what you will with all of them.” The dragon turned to leave, pinning his wings to his back, “And should the Lund survive you, do see he’s brought to me. I suppose Dreadflame could always do with another jester.”

Egged on by their master, the hoard of sharpened teeth and cruel blades began their wicked advance. Weapons were brandished, kissing noises made with grim promises. The rest of them were like rapid dogs, frothing at the lips, ready to tear them apart. It would seem to any onlookers that they were downright humped. Mug Brandished his weapon for one defiant stand, Swiftclaw ready to grab them both and take his chances, but it was not to be had. For there came the sound of leathery wings.

“I warned you all.” Arcturus said mournfully, holding his blade outstretched. He hoped the dragon above could sense what he wanted, a great wall of flame to dispatch them.

Twin pillars of rippling flame erupted from the ground, swelling forth without any regard for those caught within it’s destructive path. Red-orange it lit up the night, forming a protective ring around the survivors. Though it hissed and reached high above their heads, none were hurt within it’s confines. The same could not be said for those outside the wall of flame.

Mercenaries sprinted for their lives, the heat devastating to those not fast enough to flee. They were encased in flames, each falling to their knees in tremendous pain. Their screams were a great cacophony of suffering until they were struck from this world. None dared approach this wicked trick, not even when prompted by their dragon master. But he too found himself engaged with other pressing matters as a blur of crimson scales and teeth swooped from on high.

Veledar crashed into Raging Flame with a tremendous snarl, his sharpened claws tasting blood. Together they careened into the snow, but not before the red dragon sunk his teeth into his victim’s scaled throat.

There wasn’t a moment left to lose, not with this distraction gifted right to them. As the mercenaries looked on in terror to their golden master, Arcturus was busy commanding the survivors back to sanity, the dragonfear was broken.

“Take flight now! Don’t let them get a grip upon their sanity. Head for the eastern wall! Fly now!” He grabbed Mug by his collar, lifting his struggling form up and onto Swiftclaw’s back.

“Hey, no fair, you’re ruining all the fun!” The kobold pouted, then shutting his snout as Arcturus gave him a stern gaze. “This is why you commander types suck.”

He climbed upon the gryphon’s back, who leaped to the air as the word was given. Around them gryphons all did the same, taking as many passengers as they could. They might have lost a few to the dragon’s breath, but they had enough to ensure that no one was left behind. There might be no room for maneuvering towards their destination, but hopefully their dragon hero would be able to ensure none would come following upon their tail feathers.

Only Arcturus gazed upon the dueling dragons with any bit of concern. When others saw a heroic rescue, he knew better. This encounter would be a tall order for a dragon of such a size, the golden beast easily twice of him. Even still, the red charged the gold with the ferocity of a dragon three times his size, snow scattering in his wake. They clashed in a fury of snapping teeth and snarls; mercenaries ran to not get crushed underfoot as the dragons forced each other to the ground.

Blood was scattered across the snow with every strike, neither dragon able to hold onto any enchantment they might have woven. Gone was dignity, honor, or regality. All that remained was the primal, animalistic fury of these beasts. When they separated, Veledar was panting, blood drooling down his snout. The gold, sporting similar wounds could only gaze at this younger upstart with equal parts distain and surprise. What was a dragon doing defending these mortals? They growled and started circling one another, tails flicking as they sized each other up. Soon there would be another clash.

Gritting his teeth, Arcturus held tight the gryphon below him. Though the others were setting their sights for the eastern wall, he knew he’d be unable to do so. Veledar, though he had rescued them, would be unable to escape Raging Flame. Even now he could see the red tiring as the golden dragon batted him around, slamming him into the snow with force that might kill a man twice over.

“Swiftclaw, get me down there!” He shouted, snatching Mug’s crossbow right out of his claws.

“You want to go down?” Replied the gryphon, head tilted, “Are you mad?”

“I’ll say! He took my damned rifle!” Mug growled, trying to drag his weapon back from the knight’s hands. “No way you’re dying and leaving my precious out here! Come on Lund, be reasonable!”

“Who said anything about dying?” Replied Arcturus, “Swiftclaw, drop me off and leave if you like, I can’t leave him!”

“But you might die sir!” Swiftclaw said, “Look at how they have at one another, better to not get mixed up in that! You’ll be crushed, burned alive, you don’t even have any armor!”

“Let the human commit suicide.” Mug hissed, “After he hands me back my rifle.”

“You’re not getting it back.” Arcturus looked it over, activating the rune that brought it to life. It hummed and radiated with power. He frowned at needing to use one of these again, but Veledar’s existence was more important. “Listen here, I out rank both of you. That there dragon risked his life to save us, plus, I’m rather in love with him. So get me down their swift as you like, show them the tail feathers if courage leaves you. Consider that an order.”How his emerald eyes burned in the night, killing any looks of hints of resistance. They both could see that it was of no use, Arcturus’ mind was made up. Swiftclaw could only tilt his wing with a nod.

“Aye sir, hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Man, your fucking mad.” Mug shook his head, “And you better not die, I want my fucking crossbow back!”

“Can’t you make another one?”

“Another one he says? The crossbow has a name!”

Around the dragons Swiftclaw swung, keeping his feathers far away from the range of firebreaths. Their bulk was crashing into carts and tents alike, blood trails following in their wake. The gold was clearly winning, Veledar weakly panting and keeping himself on all fours. The red had managed to get some distance between himself and his opponent, pelting the golden dragon with a series of boulders the size of Arcturus’ head. Swiftclaw landed behind the shattered remains of a mercenary’s tent, only staying upon the ground long enough for Arcturus to hurl himself off to the snow.

“And don’t forget to return that!” Mug hissed as the gryph pounded his wings, “Or else I’ll fucking be cross!”

Arcturus raced through the destroyed sea of tents and fragmented carts, easily mistaken for just one of many humanoids keeping their distance from the dragons. Blood was dribbling down scale and membrane alike as snow was tossed asunder by their heavy blows. Arcturus took aim with his weapon, trying to get a clean shot as the dragons were again at each other’s throats. Twisting tails and batting paws, he could not shoot without striking Veledar. Cursing he maneuvered with haste, beating back the concern that he might be too late. When a duo of mercenaries tried to thwart him, he gifted upon them energy blasts straight to the torso. They collapsed; their bodies broken.

Kneeling he lined up another shot, “Push him up!” He shouted, with all his might. Praying the dragon had heard him he let loose a trio of shots, lighting up the night with crackling blue bolts of pure magical might. They smattered into the golden dragon as Veledar pushed the beast up with his hinds. It roared in frustration as the crossbow did it’s intended work, disabling the limbs that it struck.

Veledar slipped free of the golden dragon’s claws, letting them taste nothing but air. As the beast hissed and cursed Arcturus’ name, the red dragon was upon him again. He could not give an inch, or else Raging Flame might set himself against the man. With a snarl he swatted the gold hard as he could across the snout, splattering the ground below with blood.

Together they worked like a pack of wolves, dispatching a much larger prey. Each was there for the other to stop the replies of the dragon or his minions. The air was alive with energy crossbow bolts or dragon fire, bringing flashes of day to the weary night. It all ended with the golden dragon slumped to the ground, hardly able to twitch a wing. What fight it had only existed within its hateful glare as Veledar and Arcturus stood triumphantly over it. With a final resistance it took a deep breath, flames building within its maw. But an extended red wing shielded the human from harm.

“I think you must try harder.” Hissed Veledar, “Hardly a tickle.”

When the membranes raised and the fire abated, Arcturus’ nerves were steeled. His foe might have been beaten, but his resolve would not be crushed. It might not be today, but come tomorrow, more could die from his inaction. “Know I gave you the chance to surrender.” He flipped the rune of the crossbow from stun to kill. His eyes flashed a bright red as he loosed the weapon’s payload into the gold dragon’s snout. Scales burned and sizzled, flesh was blown away, painting the ground a grisly red beneath the knight’s boots. He only stayed his hand when the gold dragon ceased it’s movements, any sign of life had left it. There was no other way, he had to end this creature before it could hurt anyone else.

With his grim task done he turned to face the mercenaries before him, pale faced and staring upon his still smoking crossbow. Yet the knights gaze was sharper than any sword they carried, and with Veledar, standing menacingly behind him, what words he spoke were like that of a demigod themselves. “This is what waits those who assail Struport’s walls. Consider this your last warning. Stop this now, take your things and depart. This city is defended, and they will fight for every bit of land. This dragon is just one of many that await you, and they too shall bring death.” He didn’t flinch as Veledar tossed back his head and bellowed a thunderous roar that broke apart the crowd of onlookers.

“Look at them run.” The dragon mused, then growling with a steeled gaze as he beheld the golden’s corpse. “Was this truly necessary?”

“You saw what he wanted.” Arcturus replied, climbing onto the dragon’s back. “He worked with Dreadflame, and you know what sort of dragon he is.”

Veledar nodded, “Still doesn’t mean I have to like this part.”

“Nor do I.” He connected himself to the saddle, “But they forced our hands in such a matter.”

“One can only hope that things will be this easy.” Veledar replied, flaring his great wings wide. There was blood and signs of the golden dragon’s claws. With a look, Arcturus knew what he wanted, using his healing to repair the marks. “I suppose this is just scattering little bugs before the wind.” He mused, leaping upon the air and pounding his wings.

“This was just a scouting force, the tip of the spear.” Arcturus replied bitterly as the winter winds teased at his cheeks. “I fear what lies ahead will be far worse.”

The dragon spiraled upwards into the black, becoming little more than a shadow against the sky. To the eastern gate he raced, letting the shouts and cries below become nothing more than whispers to the ear. His breaths came faster of the crisp air, the tendrils of worry still flickering across the back of his skull. With each beat of his wings it dulled, the silence comforting to the soul, until the dragon’s sky was tranquil, safe. Flaring his nostrils he followed the currents, hoping that this was the end of the excitement that the night had in store.

** * * * * * * * * * **

Deep within the encampments of undead and man, slept a beast of terrible legend. A bulwark of hearty scales traveled down it’s vast body, deep crimson in color, very much like blood itself. It’s belly scales were that of molten rock, cracks of bright orange and red springing forth through a cascade of onyx plates. Stories were whispered of his terrible past; of thousands made to perish and suffer at his paws. Dreadflame, they called this ancient beast, whose mere presence instilled fear into all who gazed upon him, wondering if they’d find themselves the target of his malicious intentions. One of the children of the Emperor of dragon kind, there were little who were his equal. It was this massive creature that a lone human now approached with tentative steps, wishing they could find themselves anywhere else in this miserable world.

A lazy eye opened, it’s iris that of a blazing forge. Within crackled the ire of restless storm that lit the air around it, heavy malicious intent flickering with every deep breath. Dreadflame beheld this pitiful human now whimpering before him, a twig of a man, hardly larger than his paw. He could have crushed him should he wished, it wouldn’t even take that much effort. Up the dragon looked with a yawn, cursing that the stars were still out. Something must have happened, the dragon growled, it’s prominence reducing the human’s legs before him to wiggling sticks of jelly.

“Human.” The word was like an insult, his voice deep and thunderous, reflective of the gods themselves. “What possesses you to wake me from my slumber? Do you not recall what happened to the others that found themselves in your predicament?”

“You burned them alive.” The human whimpered, prostrating himself before the towering creature.

“And yet here you are.” The dragon yawned, lazily gazing upon his armored paws. “I’d hoped the rest of you would learn, but I suppose that was my mistake. You are inferior creations after all.”

“That we are my lord.” His nose was trying to combine with the snow, “But I bring word most urgent! Forgive me for my intrusion O great and powerful Dreadflame, the defeater of tyrants, the slayer of men, bulwark against lies, uniter of the righteous dawn, herald of the Emperor himself-“

“Get to the point.” He snapped his jaws to silence the tirade of titles, typically he adored such things, but only when sleep was not deprived of him. He almost chuckled as the man leaped a foot in the air, yelping in terror. “Explain plainly, or your fate will be that of those that came before you.”

The man gulped, raising upon his shivering legs. “The forward encampment my greatness!” He gestured out to the countryside, where a flickering light was still to be seen.

The dragon tilted his head, was that not where the Lumarian airship was supposed to be? All he could see from this distance was a swarm of flames consuming what remained of the wood. Metal was strewn about before it, hurled around as though it were mere trash. His tail lashed against the snow, a growl dwelling deep within his throat. Had not he assigned Raging Flame to protect it? To the tiny man he snapped, all his attention focused upon him, now sniveling before his paws. When the dragon spoke it was sharper than any of his claws, “What happened?”

Survival seemed to surge within the lone human’s breast, forcing him to sprint to shield himself behind the nearest tree that he could find. There he clutched the frosted bark, praying to the gods that he might live.

Dreadflame rose, his nostrils flaring, blood starting to warm. “What has gotten into your little head? Do you think that a simple tree will save you from me human? At my will flames will sear you and it from this plane. Stand forth before me and speak what you will.”

Like a wounded toddler the human dragged himself out before the towering visage of imposing dragon. Eyes never wandered up, but merely focused meekly upon his paws. “It was attacked by a group of adventurers my lord. Ones we suspect were set out from Struport. They destroyed the ship and freed the prisoners!”

“What adventurers?” His gaze narrowed as he took a step, lowering his snout with a snarl. Already he suspected someone to be among them, Arcturus’ face appearing within his eyes.

“Remember my lord.” Squirmed the man, “I am only delivering the message to you.”

“Of course, I can see that you are delivering the message you twit.” He snapped, encircling his chosen prey. “But the question is why such an insignificant speck like yourself is delivering the message when it should be-“ Realization struck, Dreadflame pulled back his head, there was no question now who was among these adventurers. “Raging Flame is dead isn’t he?”

“Regretfully so great Dreadflame.” Wailed the man below, back to all fours, inches from the dragon’s mighty paws. “I saw it happen, struck down from his prime. Done in by the dastardly deeds by that dragon and his accursed dragon slayer.”

“Dragon slayer?” He lifted his paw with a great snarl, revealing rows upon rows of sharpened teeth, each the size of a sword. “So, Arcturus Lund, was here this evening. I’d not expected him to make such a dishonorable move. How very interesting, though I suppose expected from one whose family plagued dragon kind for centuries.”

Figuring this was to be his last act, the man started to sob. He nodded, pressing his head to the snow, and kissing his life farewell. “We tried to stop him my lord, but he had a dragon with him as well. One that set flame to the very ground!”

Silence fell upon Dreadflame’s snout as he drifted his snout to the far eastern wall. The light that gripped him taunted him, had his snout reveal his sharpened teeth. He could picture Arcturus’ smug expression over this victory, haunting the dragon’s soul. Already he’d stopped him once from underestimation, he’d make the same mistake again. As his claws kneaded the cold ground he flicked his tail, he’d find this man in the coming days, make him pay for the indignity laid bare against his scales. He'd suffer for the gap he’d been forced back into his orb of dragonkind, twisting and churning, dwelling upon the defeat by that pitiful human’s hands. He’d make sure that when one heard about their clash from years on, they’d only remember how he brought low the last of the Lunds.

“Please don’t kill me, o Dreadflame.” Blathered the human at his paws.

“Kill you?” He cooed, lowering his head. “You were correct in your assumption that I should be told. You can run along, for you live for now…-“

“Jeff.” The man gulped.

“Jeff.” Dreadflame smiled.

Jeff as he was called thanked the dragon one last time before turning and going to depart. Before he left Dread flame’s presence he did turn back, “One question before I go great one.”

Feeling generous, Dreadflame wave a paw, “You may.”

“How was it that Arcturus Lund defeated you the first time? You and the other dragons are great forces beyond us in every regard, yet he, brought low now twice beings of great power. The men are now worried that should we face him again, the dragons will be frightful.”

Oh, why had he gone and ruined his good fortune like that? The dragon snarled, watching in grim satisfaction as all the color drained from Jeff’s face, realizing his mistake. But it was far too late now, the monster inside Dreadflame had been stoked. Even though he man tried to sprint, the dragon caught him, right between his mighty jaws. Bones snapped below such pressure, fangs drove straight through flesh. With a shake he tossed the man high into the air, a gurgle passing through his blood coated lips. To an open jaw he did fall, cushioned by the dragon’s tongue. Still in shock he had hardly a moment to react before dreadflame pulled back his head and swallowed the man whole.

“Pity.” Growled Dreadflame, after he gulped the man down his throat, wiping the metallic tasting blood off his lips. “If only he’d stifled his tongue, the pitiful wretch might have lived.” He flicked his tail as he felt the man struggle down in his gut, the fear that he exuded. At least he’d prove more satisfying as food. True the loss of the airship and the prisoners was certainly a blow to his plans, but one not massively so. To the eastern gate he gazed, imagining the walls of Struport beyond, where countless souls dwelled, and the shard of Bahamut rested.

“Soon.” He breathed deep the twilight air, practically tasting the magical power the shard possessed. A fragment of Bahamut, the goddess of dragons, still containing part of her power. While the orb of dragon kind they possessed within was a mighty prize itself, the shard would be ever greater when his father returned. “Cherish your victory Arcturus, for it will be one of your last.” His gaze narrowed, “The shard of Bahamut will be mine, though you might think it safe behind your walls. Stone melts my friend, flesh burns. You’ll find humans to be a traitorous lot, who plot and scheme as the boat of yours begins to sink. As you cling to your friends and allies, you’ll find its not you they pay allegiance to, but me.” He tossed back his head with a terrible laugh, letting it radiate to the hills beyond.