A Dragon's Tale Ch. 17

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 when 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, determine 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 completely 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 alot 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 evenhave 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 splatter 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.

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 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 massively 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 furry of his attacks nearly doubled.

That's when Ethan realized: it washis own 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.

* * *

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 shedid 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 left 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 her 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 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 counter attack. 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 roll-able 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.