Chapter 42

Upon seeing the death and destruction Liam’s heart sank, a carnival of torture and torment. He acted.

He grabbed the nearest dragon he could see, and shouted above the cacophony, “Where are they coming from?”

The Il dragon, looked at him, eyes wide with surprise, in a daze he pointed far over from where they were, near a grass slope that ran up to the far boundary of this confined valley. Liam looked down at the tree where the defense was staged, launching arrows from the branches like water running to crash upon the ground during a heavy downpour.

“Push, we need to get to that wall”, Liam shouted.

Glyn heard, Glyn transformed quickly her tail snaked around Amy and launched her into the air. Through Amy’s heart she could feel uncertainty, but Glyn knew Amy could read her heart beating in her chest so the feeling would be conveyed. Without a shriek, without a yell Amy landed with a light step on the back of her neck. This little human was amazing, too bad she kept doubting herself. In the tunnels her size was too small and Glyn would have turned into dragon jelly if she transformed, but this was a hidden cradle of life with a sweeping landscape that could accommodate the size of a dragon. It was instincts on her part, and Amy rode that train together. The black horde ceased their assault as all the intent and focus was on her. It would have been an instant death; she was a huge target. But she had Amy, her shield was impenetrable, Glyn was a flying fortress. Glyn sucked in all the air she could and with a piercing shrill scream she cast words of ruin down below. A hot blue flame leapt from her snout instantly disintegrating anything before it. The unstoppable horde below stopped. Goblins, ogres, trolls screamed as they ran around in futility under the immense pain of being burned thoroughly. Glyn banked left to circle back around for another run, to finish those that had only been touched by her intense flames. Warmth filled her belly, her diaphragm opened as she sucked in air. She screamed again, and she burned another swath into the enemy’s forces. Then something happened she did not expect wyverns flooded in. They often burrowed into the ground, hiding from the dragons; for they could not share the same airspace of a dragon three times their size; but in a swarm, they were an enemy to contend with, an obstacle to overcome. Glyn somersaulted in the air, pulling in her wings. Her back muscles flexed as she opened them again, one flap, two flap and she darted in the opposite direction. The wyverns raced after her, set to overtake her speed. But a wyvern, just like apes resembled humans, so too did wyverns resemble dragons except they were members of the black horde. Possibly they could be the corrupted version of dragons just like vampires were once elves, but there were plenty of peaceful dragon kin that filled the lands of Arbell so it wasn’t certain. Thankfully they were nothing more than wild beasts. Glyn paced herself to be only a little faster: she was drawing focus; her work was already done as she peered down below to see the party rushing towards the honeycombed wall where the monsters were streaming from.

‘Okay enough distance had been made’, Glyn reasoned to herself.

She turned in midair twisting her serpentine body into position. Whoosh her wings spread again as an air brake, she reached out with her four lethal claws and caught four of the fastest wyverns. With a force strong enough to turn boulders into dust, she squeezed. She could feel her nails puncture the tough hides with a satisfying pop. She grabbed hard like she was making lemonade from lemons. The feeling of warm liquid and globs sliding through her grasp, down her digits was unsettling, but she had no time to be disgusted. She let out another breath as she was falling backwards, and like a swarm of insects they spread out. Scores of wyverns fell from the air with a thud. Glyn turned around again before they could encircle her and latch on tearing into her flesh. Glyn heard Amy chant in an excited voice, and columns of electricity leapt from the wand of this little human decimating hundreds at a time. Glyn became tense as she heard the chorus of pain behind her, she wanted to look in satisfaction but she had to focus, had to fly evasively.

Minerva looked around from her vantage spot. The gigantic body of Glyn shadowed the company. The roar of that dragon shook the ground. Death, death, and more death encircled them. Liam was like an ice breaker in the midst of weak thin ice. Liam advanced rapidly. His plan was obvious reach the entry point for the murderous masses teeming through and flood the tunnels with fire. Liam had told her this was the time to use ‘that’. However, she was hesitant, even in the seven towers her main abilities were still quasi taboo. Liam was the only one who appreciated her abilities, encouraging her to continue training.

In the center of the party, she looked left, limbs, heads with agonized expressions flew through the air, passing by her face. Minerva spread her left hand, then she raised her right hand.

“Lein”, she said with a strong pronunciation, which translates as rise.

A ghastly visible purple aura spread out around her. A chill traveled down her spine as Veve and Satriana squealed in surprise. She felt her magic leave her small frame, then wriggle its way into the dead carcasses littered around her. They arose, reanimated corpses eyes glowing blue, devoid of life. Like a bubble they covered the flanks and the rear creating a net that filtered the monsters from surrounding and assaulting them.

They were slow; their pre-death injuries hindered their movements. The lack of pain, caused their overburdened muscles to deteriorate from the stress. Soon they would be rendered immobile, but from the moment of being risen again, they could overpower their still living, breathing, counterparts.

“Uggh”, one undead ogre gave out a tired groan as its head exploded from a club.

So, what if it stopped moving, she could raise another to take its place. This was the reason why she avoided her own people: Minerva was a dwarven necromancer. A rare sight in any world or tower. It was an innate talent, an intimate understanding of the words of life and death contained in the ancient tongue. It was an ability born by being dead for a few brief moments before resuscitation; although, not all who knocked on death’s door gained the ability. It was a trauma hidden in the murky depths of the past; one she did not want to revisit. Her hometown, the dwarves bombarded her with words of acceptance, and sympathy. It was tiring. Minerva just wanted to be treated as normal. It was the reason she clung so desperately to Amy, one of the few that saw her as just another person, not someone who needed extra attention.

“Lein!”, Amy’s voice could be heard above.

A chilling presence stifled the air. As expected of her Aneue: boss sister, a term she relished as a devout devourer of Japanese anime. Using an ability, and understanding words of the ancient tongue after encountering it one time. Minerva could see not where the spell was established but it was away from their lines, a disturbance most likely. Minerva maintained her focus and kept the decaying bodies

Minerva looked again upwards to the fighting form of Glyn. They were holding the focus from the wyverns but soon they would be overwhelmed in the deluge of snapping snouts and tearing claws. A mistake was bound to happen, Glyn was treading on the edge of a knife, it wouldn’t be long before she mis stepped. Her gaze met Liam’s; her expression crinkled with worry. Liam smiled, somewhat wearied, but it was still genuine.

A wyvern had managed to gain an interception trajectory on Glyn. Minerva gasped as Glyn gracefully barrel rolled around it, but her speed decreased; the fangs snapping at her tail would land their next bite.

“Do Fuu Sen”, Liam recited.

He clapped his hands towards the swarm with force and intent. The grass underneath swayed violently from the wind. An explosion erupted from this simple gesture. A compressed ball of wind left Liam’s grasp. Boom! It exploded in the densest part of the wyverns: it was a detonation, a storm. With combusting air currents and a violent tempest, the numerous flocks of wyverns were rent apart and separated. This was the strength and utility of a true mage. Minerva was in awe. It was a height and skill she could never attain in three lifetimes of a long lived dwarf.

Minerva watched Glyn somersault, and traverse through the air with an agility that belied her large dragon frame. Amy seemed to draw inspiration from Liam and a ball of compressed air shot towards them. Whoosh, it expanded but it was hazy as if particles were suspended in the air. It had ensnared an innumerable amount. Writhing, twisting, turning, they floundered in the intense gale created from nothing other than sheer will. Glyn shot her dragon fire with a shrill scream. Then a loud explosion shook the underground. Fine particles in the air, compressed by wind magic, then flame, a recipe for destruction. The party stumbled as they struggled to maintain their footing and finally arrived at the wall.

“Right there!”, Chan shouted his salt and pepper black hair soaked with sweat, but fire in his eyes.

It was a tunnel that led to other tunnels branching out like roots until it reached the surface. Liam stood in front of the tunnel wide enough for four people to walk through. He held his hands apart and began chanting. Then he grasped his hands together tightly.

“Lein”, Minerva shouted again.

They needed a barrier, a meat shield. This one moment extracted from the chaos, as the undead Amy rose broke up the flow of the assault. It was a difficult thing to pull off to align all the variables; each one was fighting Sean was picking off the fleetest of foes. Shatira with her archery skills laid waste to all in front of her. Osgur, Satriana, and Lorenn held the rear stabbing slashing, and hacking. Veve and Wan, were maintaining everyone’s physical condition with healing magic, and stamina buffs. It was an incredibly effective engine of violence driving this train of mass destruction forward. Whoom! Fire exploded as if it were water shooting from a broken fire hydrant. Minerva could feel the heat, she could feel her sweat ridden red hair sway in the wave of the heated air, beads rolling down her flushed puffy cheeks.

After the influx was stopped, the cleanup was quick, the Il forces sprang from the tree seizing victory. Amy swiveled her head, the eyes surrounding them were clouded by sheer terror. Just a few individuals turned the tide of a massive fight for survival: this was the power of a magically advanced society with eons of refinement. Perhaps the Il clan would be more afraid of them than the black horde. Her beige robe was darkened by the soot, corners frayed by the heat of flame searching to extinguish her life. But she survived, and in the process of throwing herself in the way of harm she helped save a people. Amy stood on the slopes of the grassy hills leading to the wall honeycombed with passages that lead to different areas and the surface. It would have definitely been a sight worthy of the ones she had seen in Arbell. However, now everything was covered in Ash. Amy blinked as ash fell on her brow. Piles of smoke could be seen sprinkled around the wilted grass, and black burnt ground in this massive cavern which seemed to be of a world entirely different from the surface. They were wounds to this landscape that would heal over time; although that time wouldn’t be seen for a few years. The residential caves and pockets had been raised. Some life was lost, but without the help of the tree’s barrier they would not have had a place of refuge to strike from.

Once again Amy and Glyn were traveling to and fro, searching for whomever may need assistance. It was a grizzly task, piling up dead carcasses and burning them. Amy looked at Glyn for a moment, or at least those who had not been burned by Glyn’s fire already. They had not been tasked to do so, instead they were compelled to do so, to help those who had faced constant persecution tarrying here for generations. To Amy and Glyn’s surprise the population of Il dragons here was low. Even in Arbell the proportion of Dragons to other races were low, but the lack of population here made it even more apparent. Especially since most dragons died for the sake of the other races.

“Glyn, Amy we are set to have an audience with the council of elders here”, Liam said with a wearied look on his ash smudged face.

Jeremy heard the call from the dragon known as Liam. He was avoiding Amy; sure, he could talk to her if he wanted. But the sword he had carried for a month and a half now began to ‘misbehave’. During the battle he felt something, as he cut, cut, then cut again when an Il clan came near, he could feel his sword move to cut them down. He controlled it, but it was startling, shocking; he had no such desire to harm a people who had treated him kindly. He was silent what was happening, what was this sword?