The silver glow brightened, and I threw myself to the ground with muscles enhanced by draconic might as well as every magic I possessed. My speed was just barely enough to keep up with Raw-maw as his shining fangs missed my head and scraped along my rolling back. Three levels of protection—Karim's script shields, my armor and my own enhanced skin—turned a bite that would have scoured all of the flesh from my back into long but survivable wounds. I roared in pain, the noise surprising me, and draw my short blade as I rolled forward under the monster. The now-red weapon immediately sparked into fire, lightning, strange waves of boiling blood and other elements.
Go for the belly! Dragon-Wes shouted in my mind, as if that wasn't obvious. I jammed my blade into the mass of shining fur just above my head, feeling the silvery coat of power resist my push. Raw-maw barked in surprise, and he started to turn and leap away. But before he could, my attack finally pierced his barrier then dug into his skin, twisting and slashing through supposedly enhanced hide and piercing almost a foot deep into the would-be deity. He let out another tunnel-shaking howl before he twisted and leaped away. But my weapon had left a giant trail of smoking blood, some of which was trying to burn through my old scaled arm.
I shook the smoking globs off of me as best as I could and leaped to my feet. My supposedly immortal foe had hunched far away from me, his silvery glow dimming as it tried to counteract the attack of my two weapons.
“How?” he rasped, and in a much smaller voice. “How did you take Aegrim's power, without ever giving Aegrim your knee?”
“A better question would be 'why is this Iconic wolf such a little bitch in a stand-up fight?'” I growled, looking for another angle of attack.
Seriously, Teeth snorted. There are corgis and pugs that would make tougher Icons than this. This guy's embarrassing.
The monster's fleshy maw let out a pained chuckle.
“Foolish traitor-prince... I wasn't created to kill you. The pantheon didn't need to empower me for that.”
“Pantheon,” Guineve suddenly hissed. “Wes, get back.”
“Too late,” the giant wolf said smugly. Or as smug as he could sound with a hole in his gut and a giant pole sticking out of his shoulder.
I hopped back anyway, because when I ignore a beautiful woman's advice these days, I wind up getting torn in half afterwards.
“Guineve, are you ready?” I asked. Because if the monster was about to pull off some super power-up attack we really needed to deal with him now.
“No,” she answered simply. And then she brought her hands forth anyway. A smoky column of white-hot mist swept out from her and slammed into our giant half-furred enemy. The mist crackled and sparked all over the creature, but as Raw-maw bowed his head a harsh chant escaped his fleshy lips.
“Alpha, High One! I have found the traitor-stray who mocks your line! I invoke your hatred for your false kin! Come lend your might and save your throne and kill the traitor-prince!”
As the flaming mist billowed and burned over the Dark Icon, another image super-imposed over him. Black scaly claws slashed through the burning vapors three times, tearing Guineve's attack apart like cloth. As the mist parted, the image became fully invisible.
What... my dragon sputtered.
Brother?
But the scaled, coiling mass of shadow did not answer us. I saw a black horned head lower to glare at me, then another green horned head, and then a head of smoky vapor all lurch to give me hateful glances.
Usurper, a low, chilling, five-throated whisper drifted down my neck. Kill the traitor-prince.
Raw-maw grew in size.
I don't know how he made it work. He was already too big to be able to move easily. Then I realized it was the image over him that was growing, covering his hide with scales, just as I had done. The only difference being that his scales were blackish-green, and sickly-looking, as if they would start rotting off or dripping mucus any moment. The monster's head remained the same, but two more heads grew alongside it, one ghostlike, translucent, and red-eyed, the other pitch-black like a shadow, with eyes like cold stars. The shapes of each head flickered between wolf and reptile, and as Raw-maw's main head snarled, they both roared at me.
Did he just do what we did? I asked, gripping my short sword tightly.
No, he did far worse. Hurry up before he fully recovers.
Guineve fired another blast of burning mist, and this time Raw-maw met it with a blast of his own. His smoky red-eyed head breathed out a noxious gray plume, currently matching the Guardian of Avalon's magic. The black head turned to face me, and I saw purple light fill its mouth.
Then I stopped being an idiot and unloaded everything I had at the thing.
My enhanced Wits, Intelligence and dragon form made casting much more natural for me, and much faster. My stored fireball and lightning bolt fired from each hand, right inside the shadow-head's mouth and impacting with far greater intensity than normal. Stepping forward, I didn't bother to see my results and immediately fired off all ten of my finger-bolts in the same spot, save for two bolts that I directed at the eyes. Still stepping forward, I began casting my Wind magic next, throwing Friction Slices like my life depended on it, and it did. I dismissed my short sword and began casting scorching bolts as well, hammering at the shadow-snake head every moment I could. By now I could see it writhing in shock, trying to twist out of the way of my magical storm and surprised by my onslaught. That wasn't good enough. I pulled on something inside of me and suddenly my fireball and lightning spells had refreshed and I hurled them immediately.
Only this time, I threw the lightning bolt at the smoke-head battling Guineve.
I gave it only a second of concentration. Just one quick spell and then back to saving my own life. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the phantom head flinch, cease its breath attack, and get overpowered by Guineve's magic. That was all of the attention I had to give as I kept stepping forward, slinging Fire, Lightning, and Air magic for all I was worth.
I felt a familiar drain on my mind, one that let me know I was nearing the limits of my mana pool. I stepped forward faster, flung my magic faster, and moved to where I was on the outward side of the monster. My Fireball and Lightning Bolt spell refreshed, but I didn't cast them yet. I just need to get a little closer, I thought to myself as I lined up my next attack.
That was when the thing's purple breath weapon finally went off.
It missed my face, missed my head and right flank by over a meter. The fact that it still hurt like frozen hell was a hideous injustice, and if I was still alive in the next five minutes I'd start filing complaints to every single deity whose mailing address I currently knew. But that action, as well as finding out whether or not I'd get to keep most of me could wait until I finally executed my desperate plan.
Still screaming from the pain, I was finally close enough to strike. My cleaver returned to my hands, blazing with all of the magics of my Battleform, and I leaped to swing it into the neck of the shadow-head. It turned to bite me, as did Raw-maw's main head. But Raw-maw's main head couldn't get around to me from the middle, and the shadow-head was disoriented from the dozen or so blasts to its face. The long-necked shadow missed me, but the speed of its strike still sent friction burns all along my arm, sending a fresh layer of pain over the freezer burns gotten only moments ago. I did my best to scream the pain away and slammed my cleaver into the wretched thing's neck, catching into its semi-corporeal flesh and sawing into it with as much force as I could manage.
Now! my inner dragon screamed, and I needed no encouragement.
Thanks to my dragon form's magic, my weapons were considered to be extensions of myself, like teeth or claws. With both hands gripping the handle, I willed both my stored fireball and lightning bolt into the cut of the monster's neck. Lightning, shadow and fire blew out in messy bursts, and what was left of the pitch-black head spasmed and screamed.
I screamed with it, and brought my massive weapon down one more time, slicing all the way thro
ugh the chimeric head.
This time, Raw-maw's main lupine head howled in pain, and he tried to turn his entire body to attack me. Guineve intensified her blast on him, slowing him, and I did my best to dart around his bite. Somehow, one of his flailing paw-claws collided with my cleaver hard enough to knock it out of my hands and scratch a deep gash into my un-maimed arm. I let out a howling roar of my own and pulled out my mace, gripped the quasi-deity's lupine neck with a barely-functioning hand and slammed my storm-wreathed weapon into the monster's raw, fleshy head repeatedly, screaming my lungs out with each blow.
He snarled and bucked his head, slamming my already taxed body against the stone wall and his own scaly bulk. My inner dragon went silent, and all of the noise around me began to dim. I was losing consciousness, I realized as my vision darkened.
That was bad.
Even with my mighty transformation, and with the aid of the Guardian of Avalon, I was coming up short. And I was too tired to even curse and scream about it, or about the fact that I kept getting overmatched by enemies I hadn't even known existed until they came out of nowhere for me. So I held on and swung my weapon anyway, because any other idea was just too fuzzy right now to be a good one.
Corrective Flow, my mind-screen somehow registered as healing magic washed over me. Then the spell was cast again, and again, and again, along with some kind of renewing Wood magic that worked in tandem with it.
Breena, I dimly realized.
She had come back.
The healing magic poured into my vital guard, renewing cognitive function and even repairing a degree of my body's actual damage. Other thoughts became possible, and I was finally able to hear the new guy scream at me.
Drop down, idiot! Use your teeth and claws!
That was right. My hands and mouth weren't just good for breakfast anymore.
I dropped down under the thing, jamming my left talons into the monster’s unscaled jaw and letting go of my mace to scratch at his throat. He continued to shake and howl and the magic of my Battleform continued to flow through my hands and into his neck. Eventually I got the scales and fur out of the way and was able to really dig in. Raw-maw's red-eyed head screamed out then, finally dissolving as Guineve's mistfire incinerated it. As I bounced around, I saw Guineve sink to her knees, panting and struggling to call forth more magic as she tried to stay in the fight.
As that happened, a scale came loose on my hand. My dragon-form was fading.
Committing all the way, I opened my new maw and clamped over as much of Raw-maw's throat as I could fit and bit down. I twisted and savaged my way past scales, hide and fur, dangling from the massive beast's neck and chewing for all I was worth, and feeling my flickering Battleform start to run dry as it pumped more magic through my two rows of fangs and teeth.
One gurgling howl later and I was thrown painfully into the stone floor below. Stone and scale crunched under me so hard I was afraid I was hearing my bones crack with them. Raw-maw's bloody, but still attached, head loomed over me. I knew in the next moment his own fangs would return the favor and I would probably be bitten clean in half.
No, my inner dragon growled. Not like this. Not to a half-whelp of a thing, that pretends it's a deity.
I agreed, even though it was too late to really do anything with that sentiment.
The red, fleshy jaws came down. Then they were knocked sideways by Wind, Lightning, Earth and script magic, as well as a javelin thrown for good measure.
Breena hadn't been the only one to come back.
Grasping the last opportunity we probably had, I surged back to my feet, scales falling off of me in clumps. As my talons started to break off I summoned my spatha and jammed it into the wound in the demigod's throat. The red blade pierced through flesh up the hilt, where it scraped and tore against something hard in the monster's neck. I gave the weapon one final push with both hands and triggered my Outer Current ability. The last of all my magic poured into the wound, and I felt the hard object my weapon was scraping against finally crack.
All noise cut off from the Raw-Mawed wolf, and the nascent Icon then fell to the floor, twitching feebly. I fell with it, not in much better condition. I saw the black-green scales fall from the monster, just as they had begun to do with me.
Traitor-prince, a voice hissed from five throats, as a hydra-like plume drifted away. We are not finished. You have slain but the weakest of my bloodhounds. I will raise up as many fledgling gods as it takes before you realize the error of daring to reach for my throne!
Breathe in, Dragon-Wes said. And hurry. Before you die.
Not knowing the reason why, I inhaled, and with a startled shriek half of the draconic mist floated into my mouth.
What are you doing? the five-headed ghost shrieked before my teeth closed over it. To my surprise and horror my powerful jaws crunched into the substance, tearing it apart into more manageable chunks. They tasted awful, but awful like a spinach, broccoli, and kale casserole did, hurting my taste buds horribly but ultimately good for the rest of me. I swallowed the chunks like my life depended on it, and moments later I suddenly realized it had, because the worst of my wounds are closing. That did nothing to appease my conscience, however.
What the hell did I just do? I demanded.
Oh nothing much, Teeth said sarcastically. Just stopped yourself from bleeding out, counteracted the frostbite eating away at most of your torso... oh! And you also kept your lifespan from diminishing due to overusing your Battleform.
Okay, that sounds, I started to say, then my mind caught up. Wait! What do you mean about my lifespan? And why did I need to eat a creepy demon-ghost thingy to stop it?
Your Battleform drains on long-term energy, like that which keeps you from aging. Or soul-matter, which does much of the same thing. And you also ate him because killing and eating monsters are good for dragons, Teeth replied.
But that's going to turn me into a monster too!
No, and you're not thinking right, my dragon said patronizingly. But that's okay. You've had a long day. Everybody gets that. But just ask yourself if you ever turned into a cow because you ate a hamburger, or if having a salad turned you into a leafy green plant. Or if you've ever been able to breathe underwater after eating fish.
No, I admitted, but when I'm less tired I'm probably going to argue with you.
That's fine. But your followers and not-mates are coming to check on you.
My what? I asked, but the chorus of voices answered my question for me.
“Wes!”
Breena and Guineve somehow made it over to me at the same time. I saw the relief and concern and anger and joy battle all over their faces.
Quick! the new guy said. Hurry!
What? What now?
Offer them part of your kill, you idiot! That thing was a nascent Icon!
Why? I asked, painfully confused.
Because it's the only thing that might just win a girl like either of them!
“Wes? Can you hear us? Check his vitals, Breena!”
“I'm trying!” the little fairy shouted. “But he's in this weird form and I have to figure it out!”
Right. People saw me go monster again.
Come on! Don't blow your chance here! This is probably a worthy enough kill to snag any woman on Avalon! Heck, if you do it right, you could snag every woman on the planet! Hurry!
God, Buddha and Invictus help me, I groaned in my mind.
Fortunately, Avalon stepped and saved me from any further decisions.
“Detecting leftover absorbable power in nascent Dark Icon's corpse. Mana deemed safe for use. Request permission to harvest.”
“Permission granted,” I said, and as a compromise that inexplicably made sense to me at that moment, added, “everyone can have part of the dead wolf monster. Seriously. Everybody go nuts.”
The last thing I saw was Breena and Guineve's confused expressions.
Told you it was a stupid idea, I snorted to the new guy.
That didn't coun
t as trying! Teeth insisted. Ugh! We are never getting a mate!
I tuned him out with the blissful power of unconsciousness.
Brace For the Wolves Page 61