Ivy's Dragon: Dragons of Telera (Book 7)

by Lisa Daniels

  Alyssa slammed her visor back on and returned to the frontline, the edge of Jael’s sticking radius. Faith danced there as well, taking on the largest and most terrifying of the amorphous monsters.

  Even with the food supplies in the heart of their group, it became increasingly clear to Geraline they wouldn’t last. It boiled down essentially to Jael and Yarrow, who easily influenced the battle the most. Within an hour of battle, they had run out of the spare amulet stash that lay with their food supplies, and were down to the enchantments they wore on their bodies. The Shadows now swarmed them from every angle, groping out of the ground. Several hundred as well ignored them altogether, and Geraline and Yarrow needed to focus on letting as few of them escape as possible, though some still made it past.

  “If we had any runners to keep replenishing the amulets, we might be able to last longer,” Geraline said, lobbing another firebomb towards a thick enemy mass. “Otherwise I might have to give you some of my amulets, Jael. It’s clear you’re what’s stopping them overwhelm us.”

  As if in answer to her prayers, Geraline spotted someone from behind their position drifting to them from the air, with several large bags floating around them.

  Kell. The Crescent Islander glided into their midst a few moments later, and bags of amulets clanged onto the ground.

  “Courtesy of Raine and her enchanting gang,” Kell said, her voice low and gentle. “I can’t stay, I need to do the same for the southern army. Good luck.”

  “Moon bless you, child!” Jael said, as Kell drifted quickly away from them, heading towards the weapons stash they kept in the underbelly.

  “Once this supply runs out, we should begin a tactical retreat,” Jael said. “There’s no point having us die when we can live. I’m agreeing with the werewolf”

  “Me, too,” Geraline said, nodding, scooping some of the new amulets up and siphoning the magic from them, so she kept up her barrage against the Shadows. She incinerated large groups at a time, sometimes pausing between spells to allow them to cluster again. Yarrow did better spread damage with her bolts and her possessions, and all the fighters upon the rings kept tearing into the motionless enemy as they froze in Jael’s web.

  It occurred to Geraline that if the Shadows didn’t crumble like they did when defeated, they might have been overwhelmed a while back simply due to the mounting pile of bodies pushing in.

  Even despite their near perfect defense, some werewolves fell to the Shadows, caught by unlucky swipes, or overstepping their bounds in their battles. Every single number on their side counted, and every last fall made Geraline wince. Slowly, the mass of Shadows whittled away at them.

  Faith came back, panting, grabbing some of the amulets. The snow beneath churned into slush and mud, and the werewolves kept baying as they danced and took down the enemies that got too close, and Yarrow picked off stragglers who bypassed their fortification altogether.

  Like this, with the war of attrition, their numbers would just be gradually depleted into nothingness.

  Ten werewolves dead. Eleven. Deep into the night, and almost all the way through one of the four supply bags, the odd warrior took a break off the scene of battle to drink and eat, and Geraline calculated that they’d lost about fifty werewolves now, whilst having killed at least five thousand of the monstrosities. A shame the numbers here didn’t count for the estimated numbers of the Fractured City.

  Geraline kept her eyes on Malek, seeing how the lone wolf fared. He fought like the rest, with unbridled ferocity, ripping into their hated foe.

  “Something’s not right,” Yarrow hissed, even as she flicked off more lightning, electrocuting a dozen Shadows at once. “I feel a pervasive aura on the Shadows I’m trying to control now.”

  “Great!” Geraline said in a chirpy voice, though her face remained sour. “Just what I wanted to hear. Complications. Love them.”

  “It was bound to happen,” Jael said, her blue eyes scanning the environment, though it was hard to see in the darkness. “Watch me. I think some of the Supremes are coming to see why their tunnel army isn’t making it past the tunnels.”

  Geraline nodded. She’d expected as much. No competent army would allow their troops to go unaided for so long without wondering what in sun and moon was happening. She glanced amongst the werewolves, checking on Malek, making sure he lived.

  The effort they put into this was monumental. Something any nation would be proud of.

  Just a shame it felt like it didn’t matter how many fireballs Geraline slung at the enemy. More appeared in their place, an endless swarm that promised to slaughter them. “Yarrow!” Jael screamed – but it wasn’t Yarrow who saved her. It was Faith, who in a blur of movement, shoved Jael and Geraline aside – just in time to avoid two glinting rocks that had smashed into the ground where they stood just a fraction of a second before.

  “They’re here,” Faith said.

  Six Supremes surveyed the battle, their faces indecipherable from this distance. One continued spitting the rocks, another flung fireballs like Geraline – and the other three flared out with bolts of lightning. The sixth appeared to be doing nothing.

  “I need to change the focus of the spell. I can’t unstick anymore,” Jael warned. No sooner had she said that, then the Shadows around them began pressing in earnest, no longer frozen useless. Instead, it seemed Jael had transferred her energy to freezing the Supreme projectiles. Geraline started flinging more fireballs, and she frowned when they bounced off the sixth one’s shield.

  Yarrow screamed, snaking out her lightning to crackle along the shield, revealing an electrical dome above the six Supremes.

  “Geraline! Help the werewolves!” Faith now dashed towards the Supremes.

  No, Geraline thought. “Be careful!”

  “I’m always careful!”

  With Yarrow focusing on the shield, and Jael stopping the projectiles, the werewolves were falling in earnest. Faith was right. They needed her help.

  Geraline spat her fireballs at the Shadows, now realizing she needed to pick up her pace. Soon her hands pumped out the fire, draining her energy at a frightening rate. She saw dozens of werewolves falling, and her heart leaped into her throat. Oh no.

  She chanced a glance back, and saw Faith had killed the shield Supreme, and Yarrow’s lightning did the rest. One managed to survive Yarrow’s voltage, but with one slicing swoop from Faith, it dissolved.

  More Supremes appeared. Jael groaned. “I can’t do both. I’m sorry.” The Supreme’s eyes crinkled in alarm.

  Faith instantly ran for the other Supremes, before she cursed. One Supreme leaped to meet her, swords clashing – and to Geraline’s horror, she saw that Faith couldn’t chop through the defense – leaving her vulnerable upon the field.

  “That’s her blasted grandmother, isn’t it,” Yarrow said, directing lightning at the Supremes. She cursed when the lightning reflected, snaking back her way.

  “I need to help the werewolves.” Jael redirected the spell, and the werewolves took advantage of the newly frozen foes to chomp their way through them. Alyssa fought furiously, her blade a whirl of steel. Faith, despite her double blades, couldn’t punch past the older Supreme, who wore a grin upon her face as she duelled Faith.

  Yarrow stopped casting lightning, focusing on the Supreme attacking Faith.

  “I’m not sure… if I can control one of them…”

  “Impossible,” Jael said. “You can’t control a Supreme.”

  “This one, I might,” Yarrow whispered. “She feels different from the others.”

  Jael glanced sharply, noting the combat witches as they duelled, avoiding a jet of fire. She redirected her sticking ability upwards again, the brief reprieve for the werewolves over.

  “We have to retreat,” Alyssa said, stumbling back into the inner circle, panting, her arm shaking from effort. “We can’t hold this. We’ve lost almost two hundred werewolves.”

  Geraline felt the exhaustion and sleep creeping up on her. She saw the lethar
gic way some of the werewolves moved, weary from relentless battling.

  They were losing.

  Several Shadows broke through the werewolves, groping towards the witches entrenched in the center, and Geraline sent off a panicked reaction to incinerate them.

  We’re all going to die like this!

  No way they could hold this off. Without the Supremes, it might have been plausible. With them, Jael could no longer cover the front line as efficiently. And Faith, well – she couldn’t reach the spell reflector, because of the combat Supreme.

  Geraline gasped when Faith took a hit. She’d never seen Faith be injured. Ever. The combat Supreme took a hit as well, though she ducked out of a fatal swipe. Is this what happens when two combats witches fight?

  “Retreat! Retreat!” Jael kept screaming the words, and the werewolves, embattled and weary as they were, obeyed. Alyssa grunted as three Shadows tried to overwhelm her at once, before a shaggy russet werewolf ripped each of them off. What was the name? She’d seen him hanging about Alyssa before. Kin? Kain? More werewolves crumbled under the assault.

  Yarrow shrieked, eyes bulging madly as her limbs trembled.

  Just before Geraline could inquire why, or dread that the corruption in Yarrow was now spreading over her mind, because she knew Yarrow’s infection could turn worse any time – the combat Supreme against Faith abruptly backed off. Faith followed, leaping to attack, before dodging to the side instead to avoid a fireball. She was in easy stab range of the combat Supreme, but instead – the Supreme darted back to the gathering of Shadows – and stabbed the Supreme casting the reflector.

  Yarrow fell to her knees, and in an instant, Vrin was beside her, nuzzling her palm. The combat Supreme decimated the remaining four Supremes, and Faith watched on in bewilderment. Yarrow clambered onto Vrin’s back, and now all the werewolves retreated in earnest. Risking it, Geraline seized several amulets and rushed to the backline, before focusing, the energy licking through her. Twin pillars of flame spewed out of her hands. They engulfed the Shadows, killing them instantly, and she hosed the Shadows with the powerful bursts of flame, the headache tickling in her skull as the energy drained out of the amulets fast and furious. Setting the ground on fire wouldn’t work, since the Shadows if they wanted would slide under it. At best, she could walk backwards like this, protecting the rear retreat by clearing the back completely.

  So many Shadows… it’s insane. We could kill thousands and there’ll be thousands more to take their place. We can’t replenish our numbers the same way!

  Someone pressed into her side. She started, before realizing it was Malek, whimpering at her, urging her to jump on. She temporarily halted her flames to climb on, dropping one of the amulets, before using one hand to gout out flame, as Malek zipped from side to side, helping to protect the rear retreat. On top of the hill, Geraline saw with a sinking heart that the Shadows pouring out of the tunnel had barely even slowed. She couldn’t see how the other two parts of their invasion was doing. She didn’t know where Faith was, where Yarrow was – werewolves fled on either side of her.

  Stopping her flames completely, she clung onto Malek as they ran through the streets. More Supremes filtered through some of the buildings. Geraline hugged Malek, her heart heavy, her bones tired. Her stomach growled, her mind spun, faint and dizzy. The werewolves she saw ran in a lethargic, spaced out manner, struggling to focus, to keep themselves going.

  They’d failed. Now the rest of the armies lay under grave danger from the invasion none of them had anticipated.

  Chapter Two - Geraline

  Geraline folded her arms as she surveyed the new additional to their forces. The Supreme Yarrow had possessed turned out to be less of a possession, and more of a conversion.

  Faith bit her lip, examining the body of her grandmother, one hand resting upon the cut on her forearm.

  “I don’t trust you,” Jael said, her blue eyes flashing, her white hair a mess. “You say you’re not being controlled at this moment? Why aren’t you controlling her, Yarrow?”

  Yarrow, who stood nearby, sighed. “I already explained. The human memories of this body became stronger when she fought with Faith. I was somehow able to crank up those memories, enough for her humanity to take over.” Yarrow rubbed her head, irritated. The dim light of the underbelly flickered around them in the caverns. “I don’t think it’d work with any of the others. It was simply because there was a connection here. Two rare abilities locked together. And that thing Faith wears. The Tear.”

  In response, Faith revealed the Tear, and her grandmother stepped closer.

  “Yes…” the Supreme whispered. “I remember this.” The Supreme hesitated a moment. “It is… odd. I have memories, but I know I am dead, and that there’s a Shadow in me.” Grace shook her head. “I have no place in this world. I should not be here.”

  The gloom of her attitude wasn’t enough to stave off Faith’s curiosity though. A Shadow that had embraced humanity fascinated her, even though it wore the bones of her dead grandmother, and utilized the memories. Jael remained mistrustful the whole time, unwilling to add anything on the matter. All they could do now was wait for news. Something to tell them that their losses didn’t mean the end of the invasion.

  Geraline grabbed food and drink and washed herself. Tucked in the underbelly to recuperate, Geraline lay in her bed, the curtains drawn around, wanting nothing more than to sleep forever, but knowing she wouldn’t get a chance before the last of them tried joining up with the main armies. She slept separately from the decimated remains of their force, a cold pack on her head to help deal with the pain.

  Out of roughly 506 troops sent to hold the line from the tunnel invasion, 342 had died. 164 remained.

  They’d killed… what? Four thousand? Five thousand? Geraline didn’t know. Certainly more than the number of people holding the line, but not enough to make a difference. No news report existed to inform them of the other two battles. Or even what Helena’s plans were, and if she had accomplished them.

  She did feel distinctively unmotivated to do anything. Despite knowing it was a huge risk, that they faced oblivion under the hands of the Fractured City, Geraline held faith onto the idea that somehow, they’d pull through. Because they were the obviously good side, the one fighting for the rest of humanity, to stop the Shadows consuming everything.

  Even if the other side claimed reasons for doing what they did.

  Long after she removed the pack from her head, someone knocked on her door, and Geraline invited them in. She sat up and withdrew the curtains, her interest rising when she saw Malek standing there.

  He gave her a small smile, stepping into the room, peeling off the thick golden robe that covered him fully, hanging the hood on the back of a small wooden chair. He regarded the softly lit place for a moment, nose twitching, before sitting in the chair, hands clasped between his legs, attention focused on her.

  “We’re going to go in a few hours time, try and rejoin with one of the main armies. They took word to Helena and Erlandur, so they’re adjusting as best as able.”

  Geraline sighed. She didn’t want to think about the invasion, about their failure, but knew that her want had nothing to do with what they needed. Only by understanding the reality of the situation could they cope with it.

  “What if our failure to hold off the tunnel might result in the destruction of our campaign?”

  Malek shrugged, though his eyes swam in concern. For a moment, Geraline admired that strong jaw, tried to imagine what he would smell like, though he sat too far away for her to pick up on his odor. She didn’t know what brought him here, but she didn’t intend to let him escape so soon.

  Not when this might be the last time they spoke properly, before becoming swallowed up by the Fractured City.

  Slight regret panged through Geraline. She’d never really pursued relationships before. She enjoyed the status of “strong, independent witch,” taking the effort to train up her skills and master difficult spells. Pe
ople massively appreciated a spell like the Eternal Flame, since well, if you had one in your household, you’d never go cold again. Unless temperatures dropped to insane levels where nobody managed to survive.

  Her mother and father didn’t come with the other Ghost Lakers. Her father was a crippled werewolf, born with a gimp leg. He could still hunt prey and survive, especially with the resourcefulness of her mother, but in combat, he presented a liability. It did make him the pinnacle of shame for not being able to fight the Shadows like other Ghost Lakers, but producing a potent fire witch made up for it. Her two younger brothers as well were growing up to be fine werewolves, though not yet ready for battle.

  Geraline thought about Patren and Ric now, ten and eight respectively in age, faces still stuffed with puppy fat, waiting to complete their first transformations. Maybe they’d be sitting around Ghost Lake now with her mother and father, fishing where the salmon swam above the warm slipstreams, or hunting in the lush woodlands where the blue grass grew, for the animals that provided their main diet.

  She also thought about her friend Faith, always alone, already beating the finest fighters in their tribe at the age of six. That was the thing about combat witches. They didn’t need to go through what every other witch required, to unlock their powers. It was in them from birth.

  Demoralizing to the warriors, to say the least.

  If her family never saw her again, Geraline wondered how they would take the news. Or if they’d be wiped out too, because the Shadows would no longer wait to attack, and just swarm across the Lunar Wastes into the south, destroying everything in their path.