Authors: Flank Hawk
Wizard Sabfried urged his mount toward the prince from below, while Called Shot steadily fired arrows into the pursuing pair of dragons. Several shafts stuck like porcupine quills in the snouts of the trailing beast. The serpent riders rode low in the saddle to avoid becoming a target as they closed.
I aimed for the ear of the fur-clad enemy wizard and let the quarrel fly.
He sensed my attack coming and, with his right hand, slapped at the air. The spell knocked my quarrel off target in midflight. Immediately, however, Grand Wizard Seelain’s spelled quarrel righted itself, angling back at the wizard. He dropped his spell effort against the prince and slapped the air with both hands, sending Wizard Seelain’s gift wide right.
The effort distracted the enemy air wizard, allowing Wizard Sabfried an opening to send a bolt of water upward. The fist-sized water glob smacked the enemy wizard across the face, stunning him.
I almost forgot to signal Road Toad. “Done!” I shouted. He directed Hell Furnace into a twisting climb. Frothing Maw angled up and, with a viper-like strike, clamped his jaws down on the dazed enemy wizard, yanking him from the saddle.
The maneuver cost Frothing Maw momentum, and the chasing pair of white dragons closed. Called Shot shouted a warning, causing Wizard Sabfried to spin his mount around to face the onslaught.
A stream of liquid nitrogen raked across Frothing Maw’s back before the maneuver was complete, catching both Wizard Sabfried and Called Shot. Sabfried managed to throw up a thin water barrier that absorbed some of the cold, but Called Shot died after a short agonized scream.
Frothing Maw spit out the dead wizard and with claws and jaws latched onto the second pursuing white dragon. In a tangle of wings, claws, and snapping jaws punctuated by screeches and bellows, the battling dragons tumbled from the sky.
I’d reloaded the tripod-mounted crossbow and searched for another target. Hell Furnace beat her wings hard to regain lost altitude. I let fly at a white dragon crossing left to right ninety yards behind us. But I’d overestimated the lead and missed. The goblin on the dragon returned a wild shot, falling far short of us.
Road Toad hurled another javelin at a white before it shot past on our left. Immediately Road Toad rolled Hell Furnace over until we were upside down before pulling back, directing her into a loop. I waited to reload and hung on through the tight maneuver. It placed us on the tail of the white that had shot by.
“We’re turning inside of her,” called Road Toad. “Her aft-guard’s got one of Called Shot’s arrows through his chest.”
One of a trio of whites pursuing the prince broke off, taking the opportunity to dive on us. “One coming in, five o’clock high,” I shouted.
Road Toad pulled Hell Furnace in a tighter turn. “Keep her off us.”
With a crossbow? I thought. Called Shot wasn’t able to do that. I took aim and fired as the dragon leveled out two hundred yards behind, closing at an inside angle. The serpent cavalryman pulled his dragon to the left to avoid my quarrel, adding a few seconds until we were in trouble. “Ten seconds until she’ll breathe,” I shouted.
Hell Furnace answered my warning with a roaring, fiery breath. A startled, pain-filled bellow rose from the pursued white dragon. The scent of hot sulfur mixed with singed flesh permeated the air.
I cocked back my crossbow as Hell Furnace winged over to evade pursuit. She roared in pain as an unseen white dragon shot in, raking her stomach and tail with icy breath. Straps that secured my saddle snapped while Road Toad struggled to regain control of the writhing red dragon.
I grabbed onto Road Toad’s saddle behind as mine began sliding. My saddle slid further. “Road Toad!” I screamed as I struggled with one hand to release the leg straps anchoring me to it. He looked over his shoulder as I slid down the side. My saddle tumbled away but I managed to grab onto my spear’s shaft.
“Let go,” he urged. “Parachute!”
The wind tugged and slammed me against Hell Furnace’s side. I didn’t have a choice; the straps holding my spear broke and I fell away with it.
I watched Hell Furnace pull away and my greatest fear became tumbling out of control, especially with my spear making me unsteady. I spun, shifting to an upright position with my legs together. The ground continued to rush toward me. I didn’t want to pull the parachute release cord too soon and become a floating target.
The ground below consisted of rolling hills with deep grass, small evergreens and scattered thickets. Above, three enemy dragons harried Hell Furnace. No sign of the prince on his serpent steed.
I closed my eyes and yanked the cord, bracing myself for when the round parachute snapped opened. The jolt knocked some of the breath out of me and I glanced about as I rocked, suspended by the web of thin cords. On a hillside to the south I saw what at first I believed to be the remains of Wizard Sabfried, Called Shot and their mount. But the red sword in the prince’s hand said otherwise.
He charged, thrusting deep into the flank of a white dragon that had its jaws locked on Night Shard’s throat. The prince’s steed refused to die peacefully and tore into the white’s belly with its hawk-like talons.
Both mortally wounded beasts rolled down the hill, fighting to the last. The prince turned from them and ran toward the crest of the hill where Shaws dodged and traded blows with a pair of ogres.
My parachute carried me almost three hundred yards to the west of the prince. The last thing I saw before falling below the hilltop was a pair of goblins running up the hill towards the fray, signaling for unseen others to follow.
I tossed my spear to the ground and bent my knees just before landing. I rolled, absorbing the impact, and took a breath while flexing my legs and ankles. Nothing broken. After unbuckling and sloughing off my parachute pack, I grabbed my spear and sprinted toward the prince. I glanced upwards only once. Road Toad still circled above, a little further to the west, but I didn’t take the time to determine his situation. The familiar tone of an ogre’s horn sounded from the direction of Shaws and the prince. I couldn’t be sure if I heard a distant reply over my pounding heart as I circled the hillside, hoping to come up behind the enemy.
A ring of dead or dying goblins surrounded Prince Reveron and Shaws. The goblins and ogres were learning the horror the Blood-Sword inflicted on its victims. Its eerie red glow and the sickening evil that emanated from it demanded respect, if not fear. Still, the remaining dozen goblins and half as many ogres surrounded Prince Reveron and Shaws, closing on them.
I spotted the ogre with the horn standing back from the fray. Even as I closed, he lifted the horn to his lips, oblivious to my approach. I took advantage of the brute’s exposed back and drove my spear into its spine.
I twisted my spear before withdrawing it. The ogre dropped the horn, unblown, and grunted in surprised pain as its legs collapsed. Before I knew it I was backing away, fending off five goblins. They came at me with short spears and knives, shrieking gleefully at the opportunity to face a foe not wielding the Blood-Sword.
The five spread out, trying to surround me. I stopped giving ground. That caught them by surprise and I took advantage of it by stabbing one in the neck before slamming another across the face with my spear’s shaft while dashing past, toward Shaws and the prince. As I ran, a goblin spear struck my backplate and fell away. A second flew over my right shoulder.
Despite the Blood-Sword and Shaws’ combat skill, things looked bad. Shaws had two goblin arrows sticking out of his right thigh and the prince’s left arm hung limp as he maneuvered under an ogre’s club and stabbed upward.
The emanating evil intensified the closer I got to the malevolent sword. I slammed through a goblin that had interposed itself between me and my objective. The effort earned me a gash across my cheek.
I’d nearly reached my besieged comrades when an ogre brought his club down on Shaws, crushing the soldier’s shoulder and driving him to the ground.
I screamed, “NO!” But the screeching goblin calls and bellowing ogre taunts overwhelmed my outcry. I leapt over two goblins dying from the Blood-Sword’s wounds and broke through the enemy circle.
I barreled past a goblin but knew I was too late to save Shaws. He tried to roll and avoid the ogre’s club, but a second brute stomped on Shaws’ wounded leg, pinning him in place. The prince had his back to Shaws, pressing an attack against a goblin trio who’d decided to shoot arrows rather than risk hand-to-hand against the glowing sword.
I never made it to the Prince’s side. A goblin tackled me from the side. I kicked him off but two more knife-brandishing ones landed on me.
Hell Furnace’s nearby roar shattered what resolve remained of the surviving ogres and goblins. They broke and ran.
The dragon landed heavily twenty yards away, and collapsed. Road Toad leapt off his mount as she rolled onto her side. I got to my feet and ran to the prince but Road Toad reached him first.
All around, dying ogres and goblins writhed and groaned, soon to join their fallen brothers. The prince dropped to one knee, struggling to sheathe his bloody sword. I stumbled when I saw his wounds. The strength of an ogre had driven a goblin spear through his leg. A goblin arrow’s black shaft stuck out of his stomach, raising and lowering with each labored breath.
Road Toad knelt and supported Prince Reveron. “Prince, stay with us,” he urged. “Don’t pass out.” He looked up at me. “Flank Hawk, he needs your skills.”
“My skills?” I looked around, ready to draw my sword. But the enemy had truly fled.
“Yes, Flank Hawk, but not your sword.”
I looked beyond Road Toad. Hell Furnace lay on her side, her head on the ground. Deep lines of frost wounds crisscrossed her neck and sides. A trail of intestines hung from a gaping stomach wound.
“Flank Hawk!”
I stared down again before kneeling next to the prince. He grimaced as Road Toad examined the spear rammed through his leg just below the hip.
Prince Reveron nodded toward the gasping red dragon. “She’s done for, as am I.”
“Prince, I’ve seen far worse battle wounds. So have you.”
I met Road Toad’s gaze. I couldn’t tell if he was lying.
“I can’t travel or be carried in such condition,” said the prince. “You must leave me. They’ll rally soon and return.”
I held the prince steady while Road Toad examined the protruding arrow shaft. “Nonsense,” he said. “We’ll not abandon you.”
The prince grunted and sighed. “They mustn’t capture the Blood-Sword.”
“They won’t. Flank Hawk, here, is a rogue healer.”
Prince Reveron turned to me with a raised eyebrow.
“Not really,” I said. “I can’t heal his wounds.”
“But you can staunch the bleeding. We can’t stay here.” Road Toad looked around and together we lowered the prince to his side. Cold emanated from his limp left arm. Road Toad stood. “Stay with the prince.” He ran back to Hell Furnace. She’d stopped breathing.
“You’ve hidden your secret well,” the prince whispered through gritted teeth. The adrenaline rush of battle was fading with pain replacing it.
“It’s not much of a secret to keep,” I said, wondering how long until the enemy returned. I searched the sky for dragons while listening for the call of enemy horns. From the depths of my soul, I wanted to cry when my eyes fell upon Shaws’ crushed and broken body. It reminded me of Guzzy. But mercenaries don’t shed tears. Another friend and comrade lost. And the prince was next.
Road Toad dropped my crossbow next to me along with my satchel. “Be strong, Flank Hawk,” he said, constructing a stretcher from goblin spears and an ogre’s deerskin vest. “The news gets better, Prince,” jested Road Toad. “It appears that the goblins have soiled their arrowheads with feces. Probably their own.”
The prince nodded but said nothing.
“He’s going into shock,” I warned.
“We’re almost ready. Prepare your magic, Flank Hawk.”
I reached into my satchel and pulled out the pouch holding ground white oak bark. “He’s already lost a lot of blood. I can’t do it.”
Road Toad ran to the hilltop and scanned the terrain before dragging the stretcher next to the prince. He broke off the arrow shaft, leaving five inches sticking out of the wound. “Its bite isn’t very deep.” He then ran expert eyes and steady hands over the spear wound. “Hold the spear shaft steady.” When I did, he sawed through it using one of Hell Furnace’s serrated fangs.
“I’m going to pull the spear shaft through. When I do, use your magic.” He examined the wound one more time. “And hope no major arteries are damaged.”
“Wait,” I said before layering the wound around the base of the shaft with bark. I caught the excess that dropped in my cupped left hand. “When I nod, pull.”
Road Toad nodded. Prince Reveron held his breath.
I shut my eyes, slowed my breathing, and chanted while reaching out with my mind, seeking energy strands. After a moment they came into focus. I nodded sharply to Road Toad as I singled out a broad strand and redirected it into the wound where blood flowed deep within. I caught a second strand, and a third. The rapid effort made my head spin.
A hand fell upon my shoulder, steadying me. I reached for one more narrow ribbon, the longest I dared, and sent it through the bark to ripple along the torn flesh. The powdered bark disappeared, the energy dissipated, and the internal bleeding all but stopped.