Icarus Awakens

The defenders of Roost Peak had failed in nearly all of their efforts. Rorshawd had never touched the ground, was meaningfully injured only in one eye, and had claimed the life of their strongest. The ballista of the city broken, morale shattered by the impossible voice of the dragon. Only Daniel had known of the chance they’d had, and though they had not blinded the dragon, they’d done enough to distract him from realizing what was coming.

One of Tlara’s wyverns had carried Murdon and Quala to the city. It made no sense, they should have been days away. And yet, Murdon was now on a collision course with the dragon, ax held with both hands. The concerns of the ground force were nothing to Rorshawd now. Murdon was falling out of the sky at terminal velocity, a considerable speed for one encased in metal, and Rorshawd didn’t have enough mana left to appreciably change his momentum.

Instead, the dragon reached out with his claws to intercept the Knight before its ax fell. That was what Quala was waiting for. She had Grown Wings as she fell and countered the attack with a glowing shield projected from one wing that strained just long enough against the draconic hand before relenting. Quala shot off to the side and Murdon passed by unmolested.

The Knight bellowed out a roar to rival Rorshawd’s as his enchanted weapon cut not only into the dragon’s right wing but through it lengthwise. Half was severed as blood pooled on the ground and erupted with the Knight’s landing. At almost the same time, Quala flew into Rorshawd’s face, heedless of the arm-length teeth, and pushed her glowing shield right up to the working eye. The resulting explosion was difficult for Daniel to look at, and he was on the wrong side of it.

“Hand, how? Quala?” Thomas looked like he wanted to run to her, tears welling in his face. He didn’t. Even with the wounding of the dragon, it was dangerous enough to forestall him. That being said, the dragon still fell. The Octyrrum shook as hundreds of kilograms crashed to the earth. Those assembled stood still for only a second before swarming Rorshawd like lions on an injured gazelle.

Murdon leapt away from the partially severed wing, avoiding a follow up attack from the dragon as it fully shook off his ability. What had stunned and injured Rodrick only slowed this enemy. By all rights, Murdon should be in the thick of the fighting, but the Commander had witnessed both the death of Kob and some of the disarray that had preceded it.

There was no order, no tactics to speak of, and a third of the force had been useless up until this moment. He didn’t doubt it was Lograve who had tried to pull together this defense, and while no blatantly terrible decision had been made, would Kob have survived had Murdon directed this from the beginning?

“Murdon, how, how are you here?” Lograve asked. Instead of answering, Murdon handed him a bottle. It shined as if it contained real stars trapped in an amber sky, almost mirroring the pattern of Murdon’s black scales now splattered with blood of like color.

“Regards of Quala. I’m so sorry.” Murdon felt the weight of what had happened, and what was happening, bury his spirit for a moment. He saw in his friend’s eyes the recognition of the grimace that painted his face and shook his head. “Drink. There is a dragon that needs killing.”

“Murdon!” Lograve grabbed at his arm, clutching the bottle just as firmly with his other hand. There was fear in him. Not to be unexpected, someone else had already said what the Arcanist wanted to tell him.

“I know how this one is different. Drink. I must-” Pause. A catch in his breath. The dragon, maimed and blinded though it was, fought ferociously. People were already dying even as they carved the worth of their lives from their slayer.

“Save everyone? Gods Murdon, you can’t save-”

No time to repeat a conversation already had. No time to make formations or tell everyone to fall back to the tower where they should have fought the dragon from. Coming here, out in the open? That only made a killing field. Murdon ran towards the keep, frowning at the sealed tower windows. This dragon was only level five, it didn’t have the mana to completely immolate the walls. Each could have been a firing port, defenders moving about to avoid retaliation while being relatively safe from reprisal themselves. Those who couldn’t fight like that could have tried to rest in the center and held out until the nearing dawn to recharge while the dragon was denied the opportunity. It was only a half an hour away now.

Lograve had done the best he could, but he was no leader. Murdon was. It was no formal class, but a specialization that arose when the right powers were combined with experience, in the same way that a Martialist with enough powers related to the bow could become renowned as a sniper. Some said the intent of a person shaped the course of what they received. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

Murdon had to think for a moment to remember Alost’s name. They only met once, but Improved Recollection made such things trivial. An odd power for a warrior, but for one meant for command or politics? There was an edge to knowing someone’s name who didn’t recall yours, to say nothing of knowing who was who when it came to determining the chain of command. “Alost. Gather everyone who can fight.” It was an odd look the human gave him. Suspicion? The Tyrant, Murdon realized. Their influence truly had spread here already. Then the man’s eyes went over Murdon’s shoulder.

“Commander? What, what?” Alost, who had been fighting for his life moments ago, looked as if he were just waking. He almost dropped his bow before regaining his composure. “Shouldn’t we stay here in cover?”

“You should have been making for the surrounding buildings once the decision was made to fight in the courtyard. All of you would be dead already if the dragon had spared a moment for you.” Murdon sighed and spared further lecturing. People were still dying judging by the screams behind him. There wasn’t time to waste on waiting for Alost either. “We need to move. Now!” The group as a whole focused fully on him. Most were taking steps outside the tower before they realized it. Mantle of Authority. As a feature, it was always active, though Murdon leaned into it only when necessary. “Can you still concentrate fire?”

“Yes.”

“Take everyone with a bow into the library. Crossbows, to Lograve. E-,” Murdon blinked as he saw Evalyn in the group. Unless she’d radically changed over the course of this mission, she had no business here rather in the center. No time. “Evalyn, keep playing as you move and stop halfway to the library. Keep away from the dragon and keep everyone in your radius. Alost, I want volleys every fifteen seconds targeting the joint of the left wing where it meets the body.”

“Shouldn’t the crossbowmen come with us?”

“I’ll handle them. Go!” You shouldn’t have been managing them in the first place, Murdon mentally added bitterly. Alost had Focus Fire, a fact once again courtesy of Improved Recollection. It was an excellent ability that the presence of the crossbowmen ruined completely. What they needed to kill this dragon was sustained, directed volleys. Combining weapons with drastically different rates of fire meant the archers were waiting for their slower counterparts or firing randomly in the meantime.

That left Murdon with three, one of whom was Daniel. That was good, if for no other reason than that she had asked him to look out for the Artificer. As for the other Claire had mentioned there was no sign. He could ask, but later. Stay focused. As he ran past Lograve, Murdon spent only seconds relaying this part of the plan. “Lograve, assist the crossbowmen. Fire and enhanced bolts on me.”

That was all he needed to say, and he only needed to see the empty mana potion to know Lograve could handle himself. The benefit of experience in fighting with another was found in strategies developed ahead of time, though also in another way. The Octyrrum itself recognized the weight of Murdon and Lograve’s past together. There was no need to reference specific powers or plan intricate maneuvers that directly involved the two, he just needed to wait for the look of acknowledgment before moving on. From landing beside the dragon to charging towards it now, it had only taken Murdon just over a minute to reshape the battlefield. Too long.

The draconoid gripped his ax in both hands, bereft of his shield and second weapon. Ahead the beast of scale and flame was making use of tail and claw to repel the mortals and dominated monsters still assaulting it. Already its injured wing was repairing itself, albeit more slowly as it had been a partial amputation. Quala was overhead, keeping in the air and out of reach of the dragon, currently moving towards the tower. She could handle herself.

Were he an artist, Murdon would describe the feat of killing this dragon as carving a large statue from marble using a spoon. And this marble repaired itself constantly. There were ways to prevent this, and bigger spoons. Fire was the lesser of the two elemental sources of damage that could forestall natural healing, and with Lograve’s mana back, it was something they had.

“Ready!” Murdon shouted as he bulldozed his way to one of the dragon’s legs, throwing his weight forward to carry the force from the run. With his armor and large frame it was considerable, enough to pierce the hide others were having difficulty with. Scales tore to reveal the taut muscle underneath as blood seeped from the edges.

“You. You feeble imitation dare challenge me!?” Rorshawd bellowed as the pain of the injury added to that of his now healing wing.

“I’ve killed stronger than you,” Murdon declared, taking the talking monster in stride. He paused for just a moment under the dragon’s gaze before he evaded. “But I haven’t killed uglier, I’ll give you that.”

The dragon turned his head, trying to track the Knight and use what little mana he had remaining to burn him, when he was burned instead.

Runes of fire erupted against the injured flesh just as three glowing bolts used the torn opening as an opportunity. Casting three Elemental Ammunition spells then Runic Flame Circle in quick succession was a fast way to drain mana, though Lograve’s supply was bolstered from the potion. The draft granted both an immediate boost and a slow accrual that would last for a few minutes. It was a good potion, among the best they’d gathered for the anticipated breakthrough. It would be of more use here.

Flesh sizzled as the spell drove heat into the bolts, damaging not only the surface but deep tissue. This dragon did have resistance to this damage type, containing the injury to the immediate area. That was fine, what was important was the wound’s healing was delayed. Murdon had another way of stopping Regeneration, though it would also imperil his allies.

At the same time, arrows struck the dragon’s wing joint exactly where Murdon had wanted. That was sooner than expected. Alost must have ordered his men to stagger volleys as they ran. It was a welcome improvement to his original orders when every shot would count. If only they had that kind of inspiration earlier.

Retaliation from the dragon was swift. Though each of its limbs was under assault and two enterprising individuals were going for his head, this hardly prevented the dragon from moving. Only the damage to his wing and their combined assault stopped an attempt at taking off. Rorshawd was still capable of lashing out with talons, his tail, and his teeth if any near his head were caught unawares. Sensing the one only remotely reminiscent of his glorious form, Rorshawd focused on this new threat.

Murdon had come into this fight without his shield, it having been unrecoverable following the fight with the other headmen earlier today. Without it, he was served better by Agility and had assigned mana to it accordingly despite this adding to the already onerous cost of Fortitude. The Knight was not a speedy fighter. Under normal circumstances and, importantly, normal compositions he would have stuck with his defensive powers. In this case, no amount of defensive enhancements would last against the dragon.

The front leg he had struck first swung out. It was slowed slightly by the damage taken, affording Murdon more than enough time to run close to the shoulder joint where the arm could not reach. He could have kept running under the dragon’s main body to avoid all manner of attacks, but only if he felt like being crushed once the dragon realized where he was.

A massive tail whipped towards him then, as expected. One of the major advantages of disabling the dragon’s flight was that it had to keep at least three limbs on the ground at all times, limiting what it could attack with and making those attacks more predictable. The tail whip he jumped over wouldn’t have killed him, though it would have knocked him down and then he would have died. This was a fight Murdon had been preparing for, in a way. The experience from his hunting days and the strategizing for the lightning dragon made combat with this superior enemy something he could survive for longer than a few seconds.

Ready! Tell me you aren’t dead back there. That would be extremely anticlimactic. Lograve’s thoughts reached him as Murdon tried positioning himself close to a back leg while keeping an eye on the tail. This was outside of the Arcanist’s normal Telepathy range, but their bond had another benefit that boosted the range of powers they targeted each other with. Murdon couldn’t help but smile. Sure, there’d been an odd hunt here and there after taking the role of headman, but always with the garrison to rely on as backup. Now though? It was just like old times. Shaking the dust off their bond would be good practice for the pass.

Murdon carved at the beast’s belly as he moved back towards the front of the dragon. He didn’t signal Lograve, it wasn’t time yet. He spared a thought towards better organizing those warriors around him as his subconscious guided his ax, ultimately deciding against it. Pursuing optimal strategy would risk the plan already in motion. Simply put, Murdon was playing the role of lumberjack. The dragon’s leg was a tree, and he just so happened to have an ax. Murdon batted the signal back towards Lograve when he reached the limb. Ready!

This dragon wasn’t a fool. With the species’ normally high intelligence and the strange properties of this one in particular, including the impossibility of speech, it wasn’t unbelievable that it could catch onto the strategy so quickly. Tied down as it was the dragon couldn’t charge Lograve, and Murdon was proving evasive enough to avoid quick elimination. The dragon’s fire could have changed this, though as Murdon had hoped it was either reserving the rest of its mana or was out entirely. It was a gamble, but he’d seen the devastation of the city from above and knew there couldn’t be much left.

That being said, the dragon could lift its leg when it sensed Murdon running towards it. Taking it out of his reach prevented him from further injuring it, although that sacrificed the dragon’s ability to attack with other legs. Murdon could keep the dragon in check this way, staying near enough that the only reasonable option for the dragon was to rapidly swipe at him with the raised hand while the others continued to attack without that limb to worry about.

Were he a fool, or too concentrated on his class’ role, that was what Murdon might have done. Instead, he signaled with his ax towards the other forelimb and prepared to attack that instead. The truth was, time wasn’t on Murdon’s side. With every second the dragon’s wounds were healing and its uninjured eye was regaining its sight. The largest concern, however, was dawn. It was minutes away. With it all uncommitted features would revert to their normal level, and as they were all awake mana wouldn't be restored. Without his Agility, Lograve’s Aquakinesis, or the dozens of heightened features among the group, the fight would be over. The dragon had to die quickly. Getting him on the ground was the first step. The next, getting the head into range.

His foe attempted to shift the leg, guessing by sound Murdon’s next target and snapping at him with his jaws when the draconoid ran underneath his neck. Rorshawd couldn’t recover fast enough to prevent the ax from falling, however. Just like before, a volley of bolts followed and immediately preceded Lograve’s Flame Circle. It was a simple pattern that proved difficult for the dragon to counter. This was one of the ways a force of lesser leveled individuals could overtake a much stronger foes and one of the strategies Murdon had devised for the pass. Without the sacrifices of those before it would have never worked, but now? A minute went by and no one died. Survival of the fittest had left those smart enough to recognize how to avoid the dragon’s remaining attacks, or able enough to dodge them if not.

Two ugly wounds, one for each respective foreleg, cut halfway to the bone as Murdon went hacking from one to another. The dragon tried rotating to face away from Lograve’s group, but they were more than capable of moving in kind. Moreover, the other melee specialists had caught on to the game and were also focusing on those areas while being as defensive as they could. The archers, posted on the library’s roof, kept targeting the wing joints no matter how the dragon was oriented. The strength in the mortals’ target was fading. Only the remaining mages were not actively participating, having long run out of mana. They took up a role as ammunition runners after a quick order relayed to them by Lograve. In any other circumstance, the sight of Arcanists desperately sprinting to the library could have been considered humorous.

No option remained for the dragon, other than to hope for a lucky attack with its tail or jaws. Even its formidable Regeneration was no longer the trump card it had been. Fire and sustained volleys were suppressing it at key points. The reappearance of Gadriel, Flash Healed after Quala had found where he fell, heralded the end as his Flying Sword could target the weakened areas on each leg even when they were raised. It wasn’t the severing of one that brought the dragon to collapse, merely reaching the point where it couldn’t support its own weight. Murdon held his ax in both hands and stood in front of the dragon, prepared to finish the abomination.