The Dragon Realms Saga

Mave soared with intense speeds far above the battlefield. She snaked left and right avoiding near misses of fire breaths and fireballs, the storm poured down on her, hampering her vision. Brief moments of clarity came only with each flash of lightning strikes; other than that, she was flying blind.

“Do you see him, Elucard?” Mave called back to her partner.

Elucard strained his elven eyes. While his vision was more accustomed to the darkness unlike the harekin, the rain and clouds made it near impossible to see where anything was.

“No—”

The blaze of a fireball closed in and exploded upon Maisy’s rear. The dragon screeched in anguish and rattled Mave and Elucard.

Another fire attack struck the serpent once more and sent them into a tailspin. Mave kicked and prodded into Maisy’s side, trying to rouse her dragon awake.

“Come on, girl, come on!” Mave screamed at the top of her lungs as they continued to descend.

Elucard struggled to keep his grip on the saddle strap as his knuckles turned white. He grunted, then reinforced his hold once more.

Finally with one last yank of the reins, Maisy came to and swooped up just before she could crash into the city below. Mave took a long sigh of relief and Elucard said a silent prayer to Alanna. They climbed back into the air and on the prowl for Wallenstein.

A silhouette of a large drake—larger than any other in the sky, came into view. Mave took no chances on guessing whether it was one of her own.

Another direct attack on Maisy would finish them off for good. She needed to be unpredictable. Wild. To play this like a Silvertail!

Maisy shot a long range fireball at the shadowy figure. As the flaming orb came nearer to its target, the familiar red and black scales of Wallenstein’s dragon glowed from the light. The baron only had mere seconds to avoid the attack as he banked to the side and flew downward.

Mave anticipated the reaction and headed straight towards him. As she closed the gap between the two, she commanded Maisy to let out a stream of flames, and caught the belly of the baron’s dragon. Mave smiled—not in glee, but in madness! She lifted her reins, raising Maisy’s body into position for a head on collision with Wallenstein.

Wham! The two drakes collided in mid air, wrestling each other in flight. The impact was so massive and sudden that it stunned Elucard and knocked him off his saddle.

All Elucard could hear was his breathing and racing heartbeat. The rain swept sky was a blur. The flapping of his clothes faded into the background. He flipped and tumbled as he careened to the ground.

Elucard’s body remained stiff and his mind clouded. Louder and louder he continued to breathe. Rain drops hammered, relentless against his body as he continued to lose more time to recover.

Now short breaths.

Breathe, Elucard, breathe.

Elucard spread open his wings and strained his body to stop rotating. The wind gushed to his back, rapidly slowing his fall. He twisted his torso just quick enough to see the ground filling his vision.

***

Mave ducked as dragon claws swiped at her small frame. Maisy crunched down into the enemy dragon’s neck as she awkwardly beat her wings. Together the two dragons twisted and tangled up their bodies, flailing in the air, spinning in a wild circle.

Wallenstein’s dragon spurted streams of fire in a desperate attempt to loosen Maisy’s death grip. It raked its claws across her side and beat its heavy, leather wings, one slapping Maisy, the other just barely keeping it afloat.

Maisy crushed down harder into its meaty neck, but snorted in agony as the enemy dragon continued to shred into her muscles.

Mave patted her drake, whispering words of reassurance. “You're doing good, mate, keep it up. I’ll be back in a jiff!”

With that, Mave unsheathed her saber and recklessly leapt off her saddle and onto the back of the other dragon. She rotated her arms to catch her balance as the two beasts continued to turn, locked in melee. The dragon’s back shifted in a constant swerve, disorienting Mave. Taking one step forward made her wobble. She approached the rider slowly until she was sure she had her bearings before rushing toward the rider’s saddle. With each swing of the dragon’s back Mave nearly toppled across the spine, She braced against the bone spikes that lined the serpent.

Wallenstein turned with his mace to block the advance. He rose from his seat. His size over shadowed Mave; daunting, just like his dragon.

Mave was not deterred. She moved forward, thrusting her shoulder into Wallenstein’s chest. The Baron threw back his foot and took the attack head on. He caught the harekin and with a single hand pushed her backwards.

Once again the battleground shifted, throwing Mave off her feet as she rolled down the dragon's body. She stabbed her sword into its flesh and dragged herself to a stop. Wallenstein walked forward slowly as if not affected by the moving battlefield.

The baron took a mighty swing, catching Mave across the chin. Blood burst from the rabbit’s mouth as the strike rocked her further back.

Mave collapsed on the backside of the dragon, sliding down its tail. She shook off her daze and crawled back to her sword. She cracked her jaw and blood gushed from a long gash across her cheek. No time to worry about that now. With a series of grunts, she took a hold of the spikes and climbed up the scaly dragon mountain.

With a final pull, she made it to her sword and gripped the blood-soaked handle.

“You big, ugly brute!” she spat between labored breaths. “I’ll show you what for!” She snatched her sword and carved it across the Estinian’s black armor.

Ineffective as the attack was, it did take the baron off guard. Mave saw her chance and jumped into the air, kicking Wallenstein in the chest.

Mave watched as he stumbled backwards. She took a large gulp of air and snatched his arm. With a hard grunt, Mave lifted the overbearing Estinian over her shoulder and off the dragon.

Wallenstein tousled through the air, bouncing off Maisy and frantically reaching for Elucard’s saddle strap.

Mave growled, grit her teeth, and leaped wildly down to her saddle. With one strong heave, she drove her blade into the baron’s forehead. Mave kicked off Wallenstein’s lifeless corpse down to the skies below.

Maisy released her opponent from her jaws of death. Thick blood stretched from the enemy dragon’s throat to Maisy’s fangs. With the last of her might, Maisy kicked the dragon off of her and its lifeless body followed its master to its grave.

Blood dribbled thin from the rider’s lip. Mave wrapped the leather reins around her hands and collapsed.

“Take me down, Maisy…” she managed to mumble before passing out.

***

Wiccer ran in a dead sprint alongside his father. Soldiers flooded around him pushing for the open gates. Archers rained arrows down from the sky, finding their marks on unlucky Cypress warriors. Roots blasted from the mud and splintered against the walls, impaling enemy soldiers by the dozens. Lighting zapped from the sky and electrocuted rows of pikemen as light mages rushed onwards.

Marcus raised his kite shield and barreled into the line of spears awaiting him. Like clockwork, the rest of his shieldmen followed, pushing, pressing, forcing the enemy back into through the gates.

“Come on you, grunts! That gate isn’t going to stay open forever!” roared Marcus over the sounds of war cries and screaming.

“Push!”

“Push!”

“Push!!!”

Finally the Cypress Alliance broke through the lines and flowed into the city like a tidal wave.

Wiccer continued to stick to his father’s side, slicing and stabbing at encroaching enemies. Confusion and clanging of weapons ran deep throughout Wiccer’s head as he tried to stay within the moment. He spun every which way, deflecting, slashing, and slaying men and women left and right.

“Wiccer!!!” Marcus’s voice, charged with pain, erupted through his ears.

He turned on his heels and ran to his father. Two large wounds spurted blood through Marcus’s white armor, one in the shoulder the other in his side. The redness poured to the ground as Marcus crashed to the mud.

Wiccer slid to his father’s aid, shocked and afraid for Marcus’s life. He clenched his teeth, rage overcoming his fear. He looked up to find an older man with a long, silver beard, and murder written on his face. He wielded two shortened, elven assassin blades and had made the peculiar choice to enter the battle barefoot.

“Dost thou wish for the earth to drink thy blood next, ye wretched cur?” he said. His accent was ancient and difficult to understand. He was most definitely not from New Estinia or its motherland.

Wiccer gnashed his teeth and roared, “I’ll kill you!”

“Thou shalt try,” chuckled the mercenary.

Wiccer whipped his blade savagely, putting on a heavy offensive front. However, each slash was met with a parry. The mercenary dodged, side stepped, and spun around on Wiccer’s back with grace and ease. He kicked Wiccer in the rear, laughing as he did.

"Thy arm is feeble, and thou dost fight as a child," he said. Not as a taunt, but as a matter of observation. "Come, ye insect, so I may crush thee, for thy gods have abandoned thee."

Wiccer growled and snorted. He closed his eyes. I must calm down. I must channel my anger into my techniques. Elucard trained me better than this!

Wiccer snapped open his eyes and lunged at his opponent. With each new attack, the mercenary continued to parry with his dual blades. It was a defense that Wiccer had never dealt with before.

I need to disarm one of his swords and make this fight even!

Wiccer reached for his belt and took out a parrying dagger. He provoked the mercenary with another swing. Blocked! Wiccer’s enemy struck back. With a flick of his wrist, Wiccer deflected the attack, and hacked off the enemy's hand.

The strange warrior screamed in agony as blood sprayed across the ground. He snarled and answered back with a sweep to Wiccer’s legs.

Wiccer tripped to the ground and rolled onto his back. His eyes widened as an assassin blade rushed to his chest.

Suddenly, without warning or sound, a pair of swords drove through his opponent’s back. The mercenary gagged and cried out, but was quickly silenced as a large sword sent his head flying to the side.

“Can’t handle your own fights, eh, whelp?” Malady sheathed his swords and offered his hand to Wiccer. “On your feet, Major.”

Legion cradled Marcus in his arms, applying pressure to one of his wounds. “Wiccer!” he called out. “He’s still alive, but needs urgent medical attention!”

Malady tore two strands from Legion’s cloak and dressed Marcus’s wounds the best he could. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”