-Samuel-

Despite Mathadiel’s death, the soldiers of Gorteau only enjoyed half an hour of peace. Samuel flew back to where they took shelter behind the hill, leaving Bora Bora to his next task. He had no doubt that the new god would succeed, given his own strength and having absorbed Mathadiel’s essence. He would contend with the weakened Tyrant Queen just fine, he thought to himself. His job now was to return to the army, and take part in the upcoming battle.

As he crested the hill and the bulk of the Gorteauan force came into proper view, he could see them shaking their weapons and cheering, a deafening wordless roar of approval. They were celebrating the death of the monster, he knew, just as much as they were honoring him for taking part. He gave them a brief wave, then landed lightly on the top of the landmark, approaching the command tent with a purposeful stride. The guards positioned at the entrance sprang aside at once, saluting him as he pushed past them.

“Samuel!” Tobi rushed forward to embrace him, his face striken. He looked a little worn-out, as if he’d been running a great distance, but nonetheless relieved to see his friend alive. “Are you badly harmed? Our scouts said that you were attacked by someone else.”

Samuel cast his mind back to the image of Knarlick’s limp body, still bound tightly in place. There had been a deep wound in his chest, the evidence of some knife. He knew had done it at once, of course, as he’d sensed a presence fleeing the area. After his defeat, someone had snuck over in Samuel’s absensce and struck him down. Presumably a loyal assassin, he thought with a grimace.

“It was Stephan Knarlick,” Samuel said. “I had him bound before I helped finish Mathadiel off, but when I returned, someone had killed him.”

“They killed a defenseless man?” Tobi asked, the disgust obvious in his face. Samuel understood his reaction, given that he and his father firmly followed the belief that innocents and defenseless people were not to be harmed. “Do you have any clue as to their identity?”

“No,” Samuel sighed. He fished a water skin out of his magical storage, and took a long draft from it. The cool water felt blissful after the dust and exertion of the fight. He drank until it was empty, letting out a gasp of relief. “I can only assume that it was someone under his command. It is their way, after all.”

High-ranking officials in the Mitene Union all lived by the same creed. If they were defeated in battle, they were to take their own lives, rather than give up their nation’s secrets. If they were unable to strike themselves down, then one of their underlings would do it for them. Tobi scrunched up his face and spat on the ground. “Cowards.”

“I imagine they don’t see it that way,” Samuel said dismissively. “But enough of him. He’s gone, and their command structure is weaker for it. What do we know of the enemy forces?”

“They are moving forward as we speak,” Aren Gorteau cut in. He had one hand to his head, obviously listening to a message from one of his scouts. “They will be upon us in twenty minutes.”

Samuel nodded his acceptance of the words. “Then shall we reposition the men? Let’s drive the invaders back. They’re weak, and we can strike the finishing blow.”

“They’re not so close to defeat as you might think,” Tobi said. When Samuel looked at him with eyebrows raised, he shook his head slightly. “Knarlick had two officers under him. He trusts them completely, and they will have no problem urging their men on.”

“Even after their heavy losses?” Samuel asked, askance. “Mathadiel must have killed more of them then us.”

“Even so,” This came from Rainhall, and Samuel turned to him begrudgingly. “They outnumber us two to one. It will still be a bitter fight.”

“Fine,” Samuel said, rather than continue discussing the matter with Rainhall. He turned to Gorteau. “What do you require of me, your Grace?”

Aren Gorteau bit his lip, clearly thinking quickly. “We do not have a secure position at which to put our backs, nor a point to hold. The land is mostly flat here, and they’ll have a straight shot to the capital.”

Samuel nodded in agreement. “So we need to pay great attention to the flanks. I can manage that easily.”

Tobi seemed to agree with this plan by his expression, and had just opened his mouth to comment further when one of the guards at the entrance spoke briskly, interrupting them.

“Thomas Moran is here, my lords. He requests to see his Master.”

Samuel spun around at once, bewildered. His mind ran through dozens of questions at once, but the first was the loudest. What in the hell was he doing here? But before he could think to vocalize it, Gorteau, clearly recognizing the name, called for the boy to enter. After a short pause, Thomas appeared, stooping under the canvas flap. His eyes flicked from side to side, noticing all of the important people in attendance, and offered a salute.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace, my lords,” he said crisply. “Greetings, Master Bragg. I have come to assist in the defense of our homeland.”

Aren nodded in solemn respect of the youth’s obvious loyalty, and gave a quick gesture in Samuel’s direction. “Might as well take him with you, Samuel. It would be an understatement to say that we are relying heavily on you. May the Mother guide you until our next meeting.”

Samuel refrained from scowling his displeasure, but only just barely. He knew that Gorteau would know he disapproved of Thomas’ participation in the fight. That was why he’d closed the matter so quickly. To reinforce this point, the Prime Magus was rolling up the map they’d used to track the enemy force, and gave a quick nod to Rainhall. The two men left the tent at once, already conversing rapidly about tactics and troop deployment. In a matter of seconds, Samuel and Thomas were alone in the tent, with the exception of Tobi, who looked as though he wanted nothing more than to leave as well. Seemingly unable to think of an excuse, he offered a quick bow to Thomas.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Thomas,” he said. “I hope your magic studies have been fruitful.”

“Very fruitful,” Thomas said. He grinned easily, the only one who seemed untroubled by the unusual circumstances. “I only wish that my physical training could go quite as well.”

“Well, you’ll pick that up easily enough,” Tobi replied with a laugh. “You’re already quite advanced for your age.”

“What?” Samuel turned to stare at Tobi now, his eyes narrowed. “He’s training with you?”

“Of course,” Tobi said. He showed no sign of apology or hesitation on his face. “Just as you trained with my father and I. He’s a capable student, and it was only fair to offer him another opportunity to sharpen his skills.”

“He’s supposed to be safe!” Samuel snapped. “Why are you-”

“He’s perfectly safe within my dojo,” Tobi said firmly, lifting his chin slightly. “Or are you claiming otherwise?”

“No, of course not,” Samuel backtracked, waving one hand dismissively. “But I promised his mother that I would keep him safe.”

“And the more he knows, the better he will be able to defend himself,” Tobi countered at once. It was a strange sensation to be arguing with the friend he’d held in high esteem for years, but he wasn’t going to back down on the issue. “What if the Union breaks through here, and attacks the capital? Would you prefer him to hide in the keep, uncertain of his chances of survival, or confident in his abilities, able to make a difference?”

Thomas cleared his throat quite clearly, and both men snapped around to stare at them. Despite the fact that he held both figures to be masters worthy of the greatest respect, there was a definite note of steel in his voice. “I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped speaking as if I wasn’t right in front of you.”

A short stunned silence followed this statement. Before it could be broken, Thomas continued, looking directly at Samuel. “You promised my mother that you would keep me from the front lines, yes. But you will not be taking part in the brunt of the fighting. You’ll stay mobile, and I can keep up.”

Samuel’s eyebrows shot up at the confident statement. He knew Thomas well enough to know that the youth was never a braggart. He didn’t believe in wasting time with claims that he couldn’t back up. He spoke plainly, and he clearly believed what he was saying. There was a line of confidence and commitment to Thomas that he hadn’t seen before. Taken away from his home and thrown into an unknown school and way of life, he’d always been a quiet reserved boy. Now he was a man in his own right, Samuel realized. Still, he did have his promise to Sera.

“Have you mastered the flying spell I set you?” He asked. Then, before Thomas could reply, he added, “What about your mana screen? You need to be absolutely sure before I agree to take you. If you cannot convince me, I will bind you to keep you safe.”

Thomas’ chin rose an inch or two as he met the violet eyes of his friend and mentor. The cold certainty in Samuel’s voice chilled him, but he wasn’t afraid of the challenge. This was a test, he thought to himself. The ultimate test. If he failed, he wouldn’t advance. He had to advance. Without saying a word, he brought both of his hands up, conjuring his mana. Samuel tensed slightly as if in anticipation of an attack, but Thomas simply turned in place. Samuel’s jaw dropped open in surprise, he was pleased to see.

A nearly invisible shell of mana protected Thomas, covering him from every angle. It was paper thin, but was also incredibly hard. At once, Samuel rose his hand and fired two spells at it. They weren’t just stopped in their tracks, they were shredded. The remnants of mana that remained were taken in by the shield, which seemed to grow just a bit stronger. He was impressed in spite of himself. With a small smile, he summoned his crystalline blade. A flicker of doubt crossed Thomas’ face, but then he scowled in determination. The sphere flashed a bit brighter, and he stood, ready.

With incredible speed, Samuel jumped forward, swinging the blade in a wide strike. The sword merely glanced off the shell soundlessly. Even Tobi let out a whistle, his face awed. He knew just what Samuel’s weapon was, and the power that was behind it. Samuel struck again, this time a jab. The runes along the blade flared to life as he thrust the weapon, ramming it right into the protective bubble. Tobi was sure it would pierce through. But to his astonishment, it held firm.

“You can’t reach me,” Thomas said. His confidence had returned, in full force. There was even a light of challenge in his own eyes now as he smiled at his teacher. “I am safe from all attacks.”

Samuel clicked the fingers of his free hand, and the shell evaporated. Thomas actually gave a jump of fright at how quickly it vanished. “How did you do that?”

“I countered it,” Samuel said. When both Tobi and Thomas looked at him with wide eyes, he chuckled. “I don’t have to speak the Ancient tongue anymore. To tell the truth, I never did. It’s a ruse.”

Thomas’ shoulders slumped, and he gave a sigh of relief. “So it is safe from all but Ancient magic.”

“That,” Samuel said firmly, banishing his sword and adjusting the sleeve of his robe, “remains to be seen. But it is adequate. In fact, it will save me from having to avoid my full power, if you can be protected.”

The tall youth frowned in confusion for several seconds, then his face brightened. “Does this mean I can come with you?”

“Might as well,” Samuel said reluctantly. “You’re just as likely to get shot down if I send you flying back to Milagre.”

He turned to Tobi. “Not much time now, friend. I’ll see you after the battle.”

Tobi nodded solemnly, and the two grasped hands. “May the Mother guide you, Samuel.”

-Bora Bora-

As the two armies moved closer together, Bora Bora continued his ascent of the mountain’s face. With Mathadiel dead, he had just one task left to finish. He could almost imagine the Tyrant Queen now, hiding in her den at the top of the volcano. She had been injured during her fight with Bahamut. Though his god had failed to kill the upstart wyrm, Bora Bora thought, he was certain to finish the job. He would avenge his old guide, and cement the end of Tiamat’s reign. Then, and only then, he could begin building his legacy.

He crested the volcano without warning. One second, his vision had been dominated by the grey, lifeless slopes of Mount Murgan. The next, he saw before him a massive pool of molten rock, glowing brightly even with the sun overhead. At the very center of the lake was a rock of obsidian, nearly lost amid the constant flow of gases and smoke. There she was, curled in the center, her head to swiveling to lock him in her gaze. His eyes narrowed, and he refused to look away as he landed at the edge of the pool.

“Tell me,” he said, his soft and sibilant voice reaching easily across the magma. “How does it feel to have come so close to claiming your brother’s power, only to have it return and strike you down?”

Tiamat hissed, rising slightly onto her feet, her body tensed to leap. “The triumph I shall feel when I devour you will be beyond words, weakling.”

“Will it?” Bora Bora asked. Though he was in no mood for humor, a thin smile formed on his face. His eyes gleaming in the light of the magma, he raised the scythe. “Death in silence. I do believe that fits you.”

With a roar to shake the mountain itself, Tiamat spat a fireball at him. It was made of every color, like Khanmara’s, he thought. He slashed it apart with one quick flick of his scythe. He clicked his tongue, much like the way a parent scolds a fractious child. “You can do better than that. Show me your power, little Queen.”

She hissed again, infuriated by his taunt. On her island, she was protected. She could react to any attack he made. He had to draw her out, he thought. The only way to do that was to challenge her. He called out again, taunting her. “What poor Mathadiel would think, nobly laying down his life while his Queen sheltered. Too afraid to leave the nest, and confront the weak human.”

She leapt for him at once, her powerful legs driving her forward, her maw open to swallow him whole. Only problem, he was no longer there. She slid to a stop, spinning in place, her nostrils flaring, trying to catch some scent of her. He was on her island, standing beside the hoard of coins and treasure that was her throne. Looking as though he had no concerns in the world, he picked up a gold piece. It was deformed from the heat of the volcano, and he held it up, studying it closely.

“Quite a fortune you’ve amassed,” he said sarcastically. “It will be a shame to leave it, I’m sure.”

Taunted beyond restraint, Tiamat reared onto her hind legs. In her fury, she blotted out the sun, towering over Bora Bora. Still he showed no sign of fear. As her wings flared open to their full length, she filled the entirety of the volcano’s peak. Bora Bora simply smiled up at her. Quick as a flash, he threw the scythe forward. It sliced into the talon-clad arm that reached forward to swipe at him. Blood sprayed in all directions, hissing as it hit the lava. Tiamat reared back in pain, letting out yet another roar. Before the sound was complete, he’d thrown the weapon again, severing the other arm.

She spat another ball of fire at him, and he jumped to the side, wings flaring to life gracefully, keeping him just above the surface of the magma. Black and tattered, the were a marked contrast to her own bright wings. Tiamat, one of the most ancient dragons in the world, was faced with her first mortal challenger in all her life. She responded the only way she could. She took to the air, her wings beating furiously as they carried her away from him.

Bora Bora let out a long sigh. The sound was equal parts exasperation and satisfaction. With a quiet whisper, he lifted the scythe once more. “This prey I take for you, my lord Bahamut. May your life be remembered always, as I take hers.”

The silver disk of whirring steel couldn’t be heard. It could barely even be seen against the bright light of the sun. But for some reason, it drew all eyes to the west. The people on the plains below had some sense, some deep instinct inside of them that forced them to turn. They could see the massive dragon taking flight, racing away from the mountain. What was it fleeing from? But then they heard the screech of pain and fear as the scythe sheared through her left wing, ripping the sensitive membrane to shreds in the blink of an eye.

Unsupported, Tiamat let out a howl of primal fear as she plummeted to the earth. She was the ruler of the skies, she thought indignantly. She reigned from above! She was greater than those who lived upon the ground, weak in their soft fleshy bodies! She roared her frustration and helpless fury, a single note that echoed through the skies, a fleeting testament to her swift end.

The body hit the foot of the mountain with an earth-shaking crash, and rolled several dozen feet before it finally came to a halt. The eyes were open, but lifeless, staring unseeingly at the Gorteauan army less than a hundred meters from her. A hush fell over the men as they gazed at the tyrant, as large as any fortress they’d seen. The jaws were large enough to swallow half a dozen horses whole. But then they saw the speck that was Bora Bora above the volcano, staring down at the shell of his defeated foe.

Before they could think to cheer, or to raise their voices in a battlecry that honored her killer, a devastating sound ripped across the land, stinging those who heard it. It was the sound of fury. It was the sound of rage. It was the sound of triumph. Bora Bora, with his head thrown back, was letting loose with the first roar of his ascension. It was his rage turned into a physical presence, and it whipped at them, burning all who could hear it. They fled before it, turning their backs on the blindingly bright light he gave off. They ran in fear of the scorching sound.