by Sever Bronny
Augum focused on coming up with a plan. He counted a total of eleven Path Archons plus Tyranecron, who stood before the dragons. Three Path Archons now stood behind Mrs. Stone, and eight stood with his group. The Path Archon on his right held Burden’s Edge. Edwin stood to the left of Augum, who was last among his friends in the line and therefore furthest from Mrs. Stone.
Tyranecron ceremoniously turned toward the sarcophagus and slowly raised his arms. The lid lifted from the base and moved aside. “Lords of the Jungle,” Tyranecron boomed with an amplified voice, “I present you the first of a series of gifts that, when combined, will fulfill the promise of an ancient ritual. Please accept here the bones of Isobel … the founder of the Order of Arcaners.”
Everyone in Augum’s group gasped. Even Mrs. Stone looked alarmed, glancing between the sarcophagus and Tyranecron.
But there was no time to appreciate the enormous significance, for Tyranecron began chanting and the dragons began purring, their undulations unifying into a low rumble that sounded like a small earthquake.
“This is not happening again to us,” Leera said, shaking her head. “This is not happening again—”
The muscled Canterran yanked her sharply. “Shut up, wench.”
Augum had to ignore him—had to ignore everything—for he had formed a bold plan to pass along the incantation that opened the manacles.
But his blood went cold upon realizing a fundamental flaw in his plan—there were three dragons, and as long as there were three, they could work together to instantly snuff arcanery, and thus any hope of getting free. Which meant only one thing—he had to first kill or incapacitate one of the dragons.
As Tyranecron’s chanting grew louder and a crimson light began to emit from the altar, Augum ran through spell combinations. It was crucial that he cast them in the most efficient order to achieve his goals.
The three Canterrans behind Mrs. Stone began to shove her toward the altar. She shuffled along with her manacled feet yet remained unperturbed, likely presuming they would have to free her of the bonds in order for the dragons to absorb her soul. This was what she was waiting for, having no doubt come up with her own spell combinations.
But the more Augum studied Tyranecron, the more he realized the enemy was prepared for her to try something. Tyranecron was cunning, after all, and would never underestimate her strength.
She stepped up to the altar and the three Canterrans exchanged anxious looks—but did not remove her manacles. Instead, the dragons rose up on their hind legs and spread their wings. Upon seeing the dragons rise, Mrs. Stone’s face went ashen. Augum instantly understood why—they would snuff her arcanery before she even had a chance to lash out!
He had to act, and he had to act now.
But first he needed one precious moment, and allowed awareness to course through him like a silent river. He saw Leera struggle, her denial turning into desperation as she flailed against the muscled man, who was becoming harsher and harsher with her, stirring a rage within Augum he forced himself to control. He saw Bridget and Olaf staring at each other with longing looks of love. He saw Jengo mouthing Priya’s name to himself, asking her to forgive his foolishness. He saw Haylee’s chin trembling, tears rolling down her cheeks, Edwin watching her. He saw the dragons’ great mouths opening, salivating for the coming meal, crimson eyes locked upon Mrs. Stone. Two of them were three-barn, the third four. Even in dragon form, he would be half the size of the first two—and he was injured and sick. His position was weak at best. Lastly, while he felt Edwin tense up on his left, he noticed that the Canterran to his right held Burden’s Edge in a rather limp manner.
“Centeratoraye xao xen,” Augum incanted. Centarro flooded his soul and mind and body like a golden poem, sharpening his senses, bolstering his creativity, and enhancing his focus.
He dropped the manacles and yanked Burden’s Edge from the Canterran beside him. In one fluid movement, he kneed the Canterran in the gut, buckling him to the ground, and thrust Burden’s Edge at the muscled man now throttling Leera from behind. The blade sank deep into his ribs, making him gasp. Then, while Augum withdrew Burden’s Edge, he grabbed Leera’s manacles, looked her right in the eyes, and clearly said, “Korto unaquo!” loud enough for the others to hear. He only hoped they nailed the pronunciation. The manacles fell from her wrists and she whirled about.
Amazingly, gloriously, Edwin bolted by Augum straight for Haylee—having him help free even one of the friends would be superbly beneficial to Augum’s plan.
But there was no time to dwell on anything. As the dragons turned their heads toward the kerfuffle, Augum raised his arms in an attack posture while crouching forward like a praying mantis, Burden’s Edge still gripped in his right hand. He wove his thoughts into the complex framework of the most powerful spell in his arsenal, being sure to leave his blade out of it. “Xae carna draca arcan doma legenda rava!” and instantly began to metamorphose into a dragon, the transformation enveloping his clothing, though he retained hold of his sword. Unfortunately, his wounds transferred over as well.
Meanwhile, the necromantic dragons rattled their wings, about to snuff all arcanery; Mrs. Stone struggled with her captors, though she was still manacled hand and foot; Leera, free of her manacles, fought with the Canterran next to her; and Haylee, whose eyes had magnified when Edwin had unshackled her, now entered the fray and battled with the Canterran beside her, blonde hair flailing as she fought to free Bridget, Jengo and Olaf.
The moment Augum finished transforming into a dragon, the three dragons unleashed their snuffing ability. He felt it coming toward him like a wave. Focusing on total precision, he used all his might to launch the now relatively tiny Burden’s Edge like a dart—it hissed through the air and pierced the closest dragon’s eye. The dragon squealed in pain and wildly flailed about. Miraculously, the snuffing wave fizzled just as it hit.
Augum was still a dragon.
The fight was on.
But Augum shifted his priorities to his friends, particularly the girls, knowing that the only way they stood a chance was by working together. And so, while the three enraged black dragons shot toward him, he flicked a clawed finger on each paw, telekinetically shoving two Canterrans fighting with the girls. They slammed into the dragon statue with a crunch before sliding to the ground, unconscious or dead.
Seeing this, and Augum looming above them, the Canterrans around his friends turned and fled for their lives as one of the three black dragons tackled Augum, slamming him to the ground. He shoved at it, shouting, “Baka!” As the dragon vaulted into the air, he only barely managed to summon his enormous shield before the other two were upon him, tearing at the black lightning crust. Multiple tail strikes smashed into his shield and around his head, but as rabid as they were, Centarro gave him the combat creativity to artfully block or parry them all—as did desperation, for he was truly fighting for his life.
To buy himself time, he drew a circle with his free paw and incanted, “Voidus vis!” An immense opaque cloud enveloped them, which he used as an opportunity to roll to his left—and suffered a searing dual claw swipe across his back along the way, disappearing his shield and making him growl out in pain.
He came to a rolling stop outside of the cloud in time to hear a high-pitched slicing sound that was so blisteringly quick that even in his Centarric state he could not summon his shield in time to block it. He only glimpsed the sharp point of a tail emerge from the cloud before it smashed into his stomach wound, skewering him into the ground. He roared in pain and grabbed ahold of it but was far too weak to remove the enormous barb. The tail began to pulse and he felt his energy rapidly draining down a powerful whirlpool of suction. And he knew the wound was bad—mortal, even, the kind that gave him mere heartbeats to live.
“No, Augum, no—!” someone shrieked nearby. Augum looked over to see a relatively tiny Jengo run up to him and slap his hands against his scales, incanting, “Summano stamina au draca persona!” It was the Stamina of the Dragon sim
ul, which warmly bolstered Augum’s arcane reserves.
“Fight it!” Jengo screamed. “Fight it—!”
“Virtus vis viray,” Augum incanted, flexing. The Strength spell tightened his dragon muscles and gave him the power needed to finally expel the tail from his belly with a loud pop. He gasped from the pain and let his head fall back and tilt toward Jengo, where he saw his own blood lapping at Jengo’s feet.
Gosh, he thought stupidly, that has to be a lot of blood for it to splash at his feet like that.
Jengo’s eyes enlarged as he pointed up with a shaking finger. Augum looked up in time to see the dragon whose tail he had thrown aside come at him with a rabid raking attack, claws a whirring blur—and it was all Augum could do to prevent his face from getting ripped apart. He feebly parried and blocked and dodged what he could, but his strength and speed were rapidly bleeding out of him. Most of the attacks struck true, tearing up his belly further and weakening him further still.
But Jengo wasn’t finished, and while Augum thrashed with the dragon atop him, he bravely placed his hands on Augum’s shoulder and incanted, “Summano semperis vorto honos.” The badly needed Ally of the Dragon simul boosted his casting strength by a degree. But the dragon was simply too fast, too wild, and far too experienced in being primitive and vicious, and so Augum’s thoughts turned to basic survival. Wrist parry, forearm parry—ow!—knee block, other forearm parry—ow!—other knee block, attempted roll, dual forearm parry—ow, ow, ow—!
Another dragon emerged from the black cloud and raised both forepaws, making a clawed fist of them and readying to smash Jengo into a pulpy puddle. He turned and tried to flee from underneath its shadow. Augum, realizing he was moments from death anyway, telekinetically reached out and grabbed the claws as they whistled down, blocking the dragon’s attack and giving Jengo enough time to skitter through its legs. But it cost him dearly as the dragon on top of him tore another huge chunk from his now exposed belly. Augum groaned as black walls of unconsciousness—nay, death—began closing in on his vision.
There was a mighty roar.
Yes, finish it already, damn you, Augum thought, only to realize it wasn’t the dragon atop him that roared. Just as it reared up with raised claws, ready to deliver a killing blow, a water dragon shot forth from out of nowhere and tackled the necromantic dragon. The pair rolled aside and began fighting, two mighty beasts clawing at each other like birds of prey, one twice the size of the other. His beloved had bought him time, but he was sure it was too late.
The black that had tried to obliterate Jengo raised its legs to smash in Augum’s head, only for a series of vines to slap around its claws and yank the behemoth away. It slammed onto its back, revealing a green dragon, vines extending from its claws as it held onto the black in a lasso fashion—it was a fearsome Bridget. She shoved at the dragon, growling, “Baka!” and shoved it still further away.
Teamwork, Augum thought dazedly. Teamwork. The secret to their strength.
But where was the third dragon, the four-barn one? The answer came when his nearby black cloud was blown apart by huge wings. The third black soared through it, aiming straight for Bridget. In final desperation, Augum shot out a forepaw and concentrated all his remaining strength into his mighty Telekinesis, yanking on the dragon’s neck and causing it to smash into the ground. The dragon careened fifty feet before Bridget lunged on it and the pair scrapped.
But the telekinetic act had caused Augum’s stamina to finally expend itself, and so he shrank back to his human form, feeling as if he were falling down a well shaft. With the reversion came Centarro’s potent side effect—dull and foggy thinking.
But he had done his duty. He had given them a chance.
No, fight, damn you! Fight! For Leera! For the kingdom! Fight—!
He moaned as he lay in a puddle of his own blood, numb from the overwhelming pain, vision narrowed to the size of a grapefruit. Death was kicking at the door of life and all he could do was feebly gurgle, “Jengo … Jengo …”
Shapes began to blur and simplify. Monsters were forming from piles of old bones. But at least I did my duty …
Wait, who was he looking for again? He thought he glimpsed a dark-skinned fellow running about wildly, trying to survive, chased by bony undead animals three times his size like wolves chasing a hare.
He raised a hand amidst the chaos, wheezing, “Help … me …” only to notice that hand. It was red and trembling. A finger hung loose. Help you? Who even are you? What is going on?
The hand became abstract. Color bled from it and his surroundings. He saw movement but did not understand what it meant. Soon he saw only shapes and impressions as his thoughts simplified to that of a newborn babe. Around him, the chaos worsened and got louder, hurting his poor ears. And there was a deep throbbing pain within that he could not understand.
Why did it all hurt so much? Make it stop. Make it stop.
Stop.
Stop …
Annihilation
The echo of a voice from somewhere far off reached him. Then, like sap rolling down a tree, came vision, and with it color, shapes, complexity. Finally, ever so gently … familiarity.
And a noise. Slap, slap, slap—! And with each noise a sharp sensation.
“Come on, Augum, wake up. Wake up …” The voice was a croak of exhaustion.
Augum opened his eyes the barest margin to see a wincing ebony face staring at him, eyes glassy with fear, blood running from his nose and ears. The young man weakly slapped him again before his head fell onto Augum’s chest as he whispered, “Come back to us, Augum … come back. We need you … we need you now.”
Augum blinked slowly, body raging with hot fever. The memories cascaded back like an avalanche. He knew this person and blubbered, “Jengo—?”
Jengo did not move from his chest and spoke weakly while holding his head. “They need our help, Aug. You need to get back in the fight. I gave you everything I had. I gave you … everything …”
It took Augum a moment to realize what Jengo was talking about. After hearing a distant explosion, he sat up and eased Jengo off of him.
“I know you’re weak,” Jengo whispered, “but you’ve got to help …”
Augum looked to his left and saw a field of bones and long streaks of blood, some draining into smoking craters. Haylee lay unconscious in Edwin’s lap, his cheeks streaked crimson, one arm draped over her protectively, the other pressed to his temple, a slack-jawed expression on his face as if he had been hexed. Nearby, Olaf slithered along the ground toward Jengo, legs seemingly useless.
But what was happening just off to the right made Augum’s blood quicken, clarifying the moment. Mrs. Stone stood with hands outstretched, holding back two black dragons that loomed above her like blood-streaked charcoal mountains. Those hands shook, but so did the dragons—they tried to claw at her and their alligator mouths snapped in her direction, ever so slowly gaining on her. Lightning crackled from her hands, lashing out at the dragons like whips. One of the dragon’s crimson eyes still had Burden’s Edge lodged in it, blood dribbling from the wound. The other was the four-barn one. Gods—she had been holding them back to give Jengo time to heal him!
And beyond her, a water dragon and an earth dragon were battling fiercely with two black dragons twice their size—and they were losing.
“Tyranecron escaped with a bunch of Canterrans,” Jengo wheezed, shivering, “but another dragon came. Another dragon came, Aug …”
Augum jumped to his feet, barely conscious that Jengo had healed him almost completely. The fever he had picked up from the jungle still raged within his soul and he calculated he had only recovered about a third of his arcane stamina, enough for one particular simul casting and maybe a few key spells.
He raised his arms in a predatory fashion, crouched forward like a praying mantis, and made claws of his hands. “Xae carna draca arcan doma legenda rava.” He bulked quickly, acutely conscious that the spell siphoned off nearly all of that remaining stamina, me
aning he really had to make his spells count.
Seeing that Mrs. Stone could likely hold the two dragons back for a little while longer, he flapped his wings and launched himself over her and the dragons, who followed him with crimson gazes, yet were held in check by Mrs. Stone—for the time being.
He soared higher and then dove straight for the pair attacking the dragon girls, both of whom were streaked with blood and fighting side by side. “Awe and Breath of the Dragon!” he shouted just before tucking in his wings and plowing into the pair of behemoths with his scaled shoulders, sending them rolling.
Leera made an unsheathing motion and spat, “Summano arma dreadus terrablus,” summoning a huge watery shortsword primed with eight hits of the Fear spell, and also summoning a massive watery shield emblazoned with the full golden crest of the Arcaner. Bridget drew back on an invisible bow and hissed, “Summano arma flustrato,” and a monstrous earthen bow appeared in her claws primed with eight strikes of the Confusion casting, a glowing green quiver on her back. Augum got up and also made an unsheathing motion, incanting, “Summano arma grau,” summoning a tree-sized lightning longsword primed with eight Slam castings. He too summoned his shield.
The opposing dragons, twice the trio’s height, used the time to spring back to their feet. But at long last, the trio could fight as one dragon unit. Bridget loosed her first arrow with a loud twang. The arrow, longer than a spear, lodged in the wide and already bloody gut of the left-most dragon. Before the arrow even disappeared, she smoothly withdrew a second arrow from her quiver, nocked it, and shot it into the gut of the one on the right, making a squishy thwup. Both staggered, a little dazed.
Augum and Leera shot forth, a pair of giant dragon knights from myths of old. Augum took on the dragon on the right and Leera the one on the left. He blocked a clumsy claw strike from his opponent with his shield and swiped his lightning sword at the dragon’s other leg, slicing a few claws off and unleashing a crack of thunder so loud—and from the black dragon’s perspective, unexpected—that it flinched, allowing Augum to gain a tempo. He brought the mammoth blade around and sliced its attacking tail right off just as the beast received another arrow through the neck.