“Tower says they have lit fires, they are setting up camp,” Unkai called out.
In the halls it was pandemonium. Supplies, weapons, and equipment had all been brought to their final positions, even as valuables were moved to more secure parts of the keep.
The dragons had been geared up for an intercept before the enemy had seemingly taken to ground some distance out from the keep as the gloom approached. Dakota was on spotting duty for now, using the goggles of night alongside her own magics to glean what information they could get their hands on.
“They are gathering their strength. It was a long flight. Even darklings need to rest… They will strike under cover of darkness,” Rachuck relayed, Tom nodding his agreement.
He looked to Unkai. “Bring the fuzes! Once you got them, don’t run. Drop them, you’re dead. Bolinda, clear a path for him. No one knocks that chest out of his hands.”
“Yes Tom. Right away,” Unkai shouted in reply, turning to make for the armory, Bolinda dropping what she was doing and running after him.
“How long will they need?” Tom questioned in a lower tone, looking to the captain.
“However long that bastard gives them,” Rachuck replied, keeping his voice low as well. “My gold says they will wait for pitch black. Rashan is known for being a coward and a sneaky one at that… We are sure it is him, yes?”
“Do you know any other red shadowdrakes who like to keep witches for company?” Jarix retorted indignantly, the dragon’s ears catching the conversation without issue.
“Then we carry on. Load Yldril for bombing run, Jarix shall strafe them in the chaos,” Tom said, settling on the chosen plan of attack.
“You heard the man, quick release knots girls. One tug and the chest falls away. Where is Ray!?” Rachuck shouted out as he went to help with preparations.
“I am here, I am here!” she called out, emerging from the stairs below, hauling a sack over her shoulder. “Coal is here. Quickly, quickly!”
For but a moment the commotion stopped as all heads turned to look at the cripple and her cargo. Dread was evident on the faces of those who were going.
“Fuck me, I’m glad I only have to die later,” Balethon chuckled darkly as he carried one of the hopefully explosive charges to Yldril’s side where it was hoisted up by a silent Fengi. They would only be armed once secured.
The dragon stood unmoving as she was worked on, staring blankly at the wall. “Now you may feel what it is like to be me.”
“Only on the outside,” Sapphire spoke up as she trotted up to Ray, the pair of them starting to dust each other in coal dust. The swipe of a wet rag helped it stick nicely. The others who were going with the raid lined up for their turn. Once they were finished it would be Jarix’s turn. But once Yldril was loaded and armed they would be off, so they would just be focusing on getting as much as possible of his dorsal side blackened.
All part of the plan. Even if it was a part they were certainly not happy about. Some had even sought Paulin in the hope she would declare the practice heretical or some such. But the inquisitorial agent had given her approval for the plan. Supposedly she had even heard of it being done before by some desperate lunatics. Tom guessed that was more likely to help someone run away in the night, but here they were.
Basins would be ready to wash them off when they returned. They could not risk the friendly fire of coal-covered dragonettes running around the corridors in the middle of a battle, and no one would want to be covered in the stuff for a moment longer than necessary.
Tom did not need any coal to help him, though he did remember to concentrate and change the shade of his cape to a pitch black.
He would ride with Yldril and be her eyes in the night. Ray would be with Jarix to guide him. The enemy fires may illuminate their targets quite well, but to see what hid in the night sky they would need darkvision. Yldril may see better than most at night, but Tom’s goggles were better.
As preparations were completed and bombs armed, Linkosta and Apuma arrived. They would be ready to help Yldril in the main hall once they returned from the bombing run.
The keep was ready; all positions were manned. Ammunition and supplies were distributed and the children were locked in the library with those too wounded, young, or old to fight. And with that the dragons were boarded, and the torches snuffed out.
Tom felt his heart in his throat as the doors were quietly cranked open. Silence reigned. They were only supposed to use bows until the signal was given, but not even an arrow whistled in the night.
Would they be seen coming? Was the dragon arrogant enough to not post scouts near the keep? Would any scouts see them? Hopefully he didn’t know they had a black dragon, or that they were willing to use coal dust. His mind harkened back to the last time he tried fighting on dragonback in the darkness. He pulled on the strap tying him to Yldril. He wouldn’t be falling off this time. But if the dragon was shot down, he was likely going with her.
“Go go go,” Rachuck called out in a hushed voice as the dragons stepped forward. Yldril moved first, wings spreading, dragonettes lining her sides with bows and shotguns, just waiting to let loose the bombs on the signal.
Leaping from the edge and letting her wings catch, she turned south, away from the enemy camp to the east. She flew low, only beating her wings as gently and rarely as possible, sliding quietly through the night. She quickly put hills between herself and the enemy camp. The glow of fires barely visible over the ridges on the horizon.
Jarix slotted in behind her as the pair cut through the night. Not a sound was heard over the billowing of the wind. No screeching. No shooting. No signal of attack from the keep. Was it going well? Was it a trap? Would they be able to tell the difference before it sprung? Tom kept his head on a swivel, checking that his gun was loaded one last time. They had to break up the enemy and cull their numbers before they attacked the keep. They only got one shot. They had to take it.
“Scouts high,” Ray said in a raised voice, looking up at the dim moon. “Very high.”
Zarko strained her eyes as Jarix held his course. She was blind to the night, but hopefully the darklings would be as well. Darklings had no innate magic, which meant no darkvision. Unless of course one of the scouts was a dark knight. And the night terrors could see with sound: they were the true threat. Tom believed flying low would help, the ground blinding their echoes.
They had trained for night fighting, and they had the benefit of Ray and a blacked out dorsal. She could only bless her stars it wasn’t a snob like Sisu, Grevi’s lieutenant, who had ended up part of Jarix’s crew. This night they would be fighting dirty in every sense of the word.
No one would catch them in the night. Not even the terrors. But she worried for Yldril. She had no gun and no armor. She was also far more heavily laden for the bombing run, not to mention the weapons’ temperamental nature. If they caught her she might be in trouble, and she would have no hope but Jarix.
“They aren’t doing anything,” Ray informed them, eyes fixed on the invisible enemy.
“Keep an eye on them,” Zarko said, receiving a shush from Jarix as they slid quietly through the night. “You shush, eyes front.”
The camp wasn’t far. They only had to slip by unnoticed for a little longer.
“Eyes front,” the dragon all but whispered as they approached. The glow of the fires started to become visible over the ridgeline ahead of them. The enemy had built their camp sheltered in a crevasse, shielded from the wind. A poor decision in this situation.
Ray scouted the skies for them, and soon pointed into the nothingness. “Night terror, front up, uhm uhm.”
“Where?” Jarix snarled at her, understandably so.
“Uh, fifteen, I think. Degrees. Sorry,” she stammered out in reply as they heard the screech from above the enemy camp. “It’s coming!” she called out as Jarix shot forward, wings hammering away trying to make battle speed, the pretense of stealth abandoned. Ahead of them Yldril too strained to gain speed, Zarko instinctively counting the beats.
She could hear Yldril groan as Jarix swung left, the few glinting bits of metal and dashes of white dragonette skin giving away that they were passing the black dragon as they crested the hill.
Zarko and Ray braced their crossbows just as Jarix started his dive on the camp. It was similar to the one described by Sapphire, large fires with lying darklings arrayed around them in circles.
“Archers! Lots!” Ray called out as she looked into the shadows outside the range of the fires. Zarko loosed her bolt where she could see as the whistle of missiles flew past them, Jarix throwing himself sideways through the air with a powerful beat of his wings.
Yldril roared out in pain as “RELEASE!” was shouted from her back. Bolts and arrows caught in her underside. The scaly plates deflected many, but what damage was done was unknowable.
Jarix hesitated on his shot after recovering from his maneuver. He was supposed to go for Rashan, but there was no sign of him. And Ray provided no sighting either. The blue dragon fired, head twisted to the side, blowing away a smattering of dimly lit archers by the camp’s edge. The enemy had been ready for them. Hundreds of shafts had been fired. This was a trap.
He banked away. Zarko’s eyes were locked on the camp as, one by one, the chests hit. The blitz charges went off with a crackle of electricity. The fine powder dispersed into the air like big red clouds. Then the glow of fire emerged from the center and the corners, catching alight on the bonfires. The blanket of powder went up in a massive fireball that engulfed most of the camp.
The whole night was illuminated for a brief moment as the roar pushed Jarix off course, forcing the dragon to turn into the new wind. He hollered a cheer as Zarko stared at the smoke cloud. Just as quickly as it had begun, the flames ceased. Darkness took over once more as Jarix made to circle back for his second pass to cover Yldril’s retreat.
Zarko commenced the reload on her crossbow and looked to the sky above them, seeing nothing. “Ray, where are they?”
“I-… I…”
“RAY!”
“Sorry! Uhm uh… five a’clock high, terror, uh. Seven a’clock, terror, diving uhm. Uhm. Five a’clock, going for Yldril. Seven is coming for us. Shit! There he is. Dragon! Above us! He is coming down! He is going for Yldril!”
“Jarix, tighten turn!”
“Bit long, good effect on target!” Tom called out as he put the goggles back on again, Yldril speeding away into the night. He had feared they would not work at all. Spread the powder too thin and the explosion would not propagate, too thick and it would be a slow, incomplete burn. There was no explosion, so it was still too thick, but anything in there was bound to have been burned good.
“One didn’t go!” a panicked voice called out from behind Tom along Yldril’s side. It was Herron, sounding more awake than Tom had ever heard the man. “Careful! It’s gonna blow up!”
“Cut it Herron!” Sapphire shouted, Tom only able to guess how much jostling one of those things could take. If it smacked against Yldril’s side he was very confident it was going to go off.
Dropping the goggles, they had other issues, too. They had been seen on the way in, and while the explosion had startled their pursuer, it had not dissuaded them. “Incoming, six o’clock. All speed possible, cut that thing away!” Tom called out as he shouldered the rifle. If the choice was show their hand or have Yldril mauled by a night terror, they would play their hand.
“I hate you!” Yldril roared out as she cleared the far side ridgeline and turned for home, flying low and fast, any pretense of stealth long forgotten.
“Steady does it. You did so well, we have time,” Fengi countermanded as Tom scouted behind them, his old goggles struggling to make out the black creature in the gloom. It was better than what anyone else onboard had, though.
“They are gaining, alright. Three hundred meters,” he guessed, clicking the safety off. “Make ready.” Turning to his left he saw Jarix coming around in the gloom. He was supposed to cover them. Hopefully he would deal with their pursuer. But he was turning too sharply. Right for them instead of the terror, and pulling into a climb. “What the?”
Realizing what might be happening, Tom snapped his gaze straight upward. “Above! Rashan!” he called out, raising the gun. He guessed the shot as best he could, but Yldril rolled before he pulled the trigger. “Shit! No!” His foot slipped and he slid down her side as she pulled up into a sharp turn. The strap tying him to the harness was all that kept him from falling to his doom.
“Yldril!” Fengi called out in the confusion, but she gave no order. Above them blue light streaked across the sky. It found no mark, but no torrent of fire came either.
Tom had no idea what happened as he tried desperately to get his footing back, clutching his rifle. A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him back up. He clung to the harness as Yldril leveled out again, then reversed her turn. Looking around the darkness he saw nothing, just a whirl of terrain and a sky full of movement.
“Thank you, Jarix,” Tom heard Fengi say to herself. Apparently she knew what had happened.
“Where is he?”
“Overshoot, he must be out there.” She sounded sure of herself, pointing towards two o’clock. “Jarix forced him off us.”
Tom twisted around, trying to see. There indeed was the enemy dragon pulling hard right and climbing, coming around for another go. Then the crack of an explosion came from behind him and Tom’s world turned white. He flipped his goggles back up just in time to see the target lit up beautifully, along with the whole night as the last bomb detonated off to Yldril’s right. The dragon’s armor shone bright, the crew silhouetted against his back: they were definitely armored as well. As the light faded Tom lowered his goggles once more, trying to blink away the spots in his vision.
“That was the last one!” Herron shouted, sounding a lot less panicked despite everything. “It was flung off!”
“Good job Herron!” Fengi called out as Yldril maneuvered to turn inside of the enemy dragon.
They couldn’t get locked into a fight with him or the terrors behind them would catch up in no time. “The terrors!” Tom called out as he looked rearward. They had taken advantage of the juking turns Yldril had performed and was coming in claws bared ready to strike at her back. “Fire guns!” Tom pulled the trigger and not long after a scattered fusilade followed. The creatures roared out but kept coming. Who knew if they had even hit it.
“Brace!” Yldril roared as she rolled right, the wrong way right now. Tom had no time to look. No time to worry. He ran the action and shouldered the rifle as he saw the dark form of the night terror light up clear as day on his goggles. He fired and saw the hit land in the creature’s chest, then it banked away, screeching in terror. Then heat washed over him from behind, warm, almost comforting in the cold night air and he was blinded completely.
Bright white with a green tint burned at his eyes as he was pushed flat against Yldril’s back by a pair of hands from behind. And Yldril screamed. As quickly as it arrived it faded. A flash of fire, like they had flown through a fireball. Had there been another bomb that went off? Was it Rashan’s doing?
He pushed the goggles up and out of the way and could see nothing. He could smell the acrid sulfur of flash powder. Whoever had pushed him down laid atop him, shielding him, but as the heat faded they pulled away and pulled him back up with them.
“We have to help her!” the panicked voice of Fengi called out, revealing his saviour. Tom twisted and turned to try and get his bearings. Beyond the dragon was only darkness, but a yellow glow and wisps of smoke lit up by embers came from under her and she howled as she flew, hopefully making for the keep. “She is on fire!”
Tom saw Fengi deftly moving across the harness, swinging from grip to grip. Sapphire came swiftly behind her, wings latching on as they went. He considered following for a moment, then remembered the baby strap. Chambering another round he trained the barrel rearwards, squinting into the night, waiting for a semblance of vision to return. ‘Where are you at you fucking bastard?’
“That insolent lopsided whore!” Rashan roared. That black drake had dared to use her breath against him. His superior flying had meant it was only a minor glancing blow, and much of the damage taken by his beautiful armor, now tarnished and ruined. He would flay her himself once she lay groveling at his feet.
He descended towards what was left of the camp with disgust on his face. It was supposed to draw them out, like a pot of honey. Not be burned to ashes. He needed the fires; he needed troops. Still burning darklings lay scattered in the burnt off grass, others dragging themselves along towards some pointless task or standing dumbly, skin charred and bubbling.
He could recognize his own work well enough. Flash powder bombs. How did a small, insignificant keep on the frontier hold such reserves of flash powder? As he landed Gehenna slid from her perch, swiftly going to inspect his wounds.
“You are going to be alright, my lord. You! You! Fetch me the powder from number eleven, we need more. You two, those bags there, bring them,” she ordered the darklings about. They sprung to their tasks with vigor, as was only right for a servant.
“There was only supposed to be the one dragon. And why was he black now!” Rashan snapped. His carefully laid plans could not succeed when he was provided with inaccurate information. Someone was going to burn for this, if they had not already.
“I do not know, my liege. The crew were blackened as well. Paints perhaps.”
Rashan snarled. No one with enough so-called honor in their blood would dare attack him at night while being so much of a coward that they took the enemy colors. These were resourceful keep dwellers. ‘The oracle… the oracle must be to blame. Or was this keep of Bizmati something other than what I had been led to believe?’
He had heard a thousand tales of bravery on the frontier. They all folded like grass once you burnt them. Perhaps these were different? He should be more careful. It had been years since last he suffered a proper wound in a battle as trivial as this.
“My lord, we should bandage it. What is your command?”
“I shall let Helvaran spring their traps like we planned. Give him Raver and Destra. If they can do this, there will be more. Tend my wounds and we shall see what happens next. Send what is left of the camp with him. They won’t be useful much longer burned like that. And bring salve. This is exceedingly painful.”
The drip of acid had indeed eaten through the padding of his armor and was starting to sizzle against skin. He would not show pain, or fear. Victory was assured, he needed only wait for it to come.
“Of course my lord and…”
“And?” Rashan echoed quickly. He had no time for coyness today, even with his precious Gehenna.
“The crack of thunder? That was not a blue dragon. There were flashes of light coming from the black dragon. A new spell perhaps?”
“Or machinations of the oracle and the vaults. They were said to hold powerful relics. Let Helvaran discover its true nature. If they die, task someone with recovering the corpses. It may prove insightful.”
“Yes my liege. At once.”
Tom stumbled from the wounded dragon, shaken and a touch dazed. Rashan had not pursued them after the merge, Yldril claiming she had scored a hit in return. Hopefully that would keep him from the front lines for the night. The terror had likewise been driven off momentarily as the dragons exchanged fire.
It had chased them to the keep, but a few salvos had dissuaded it from following further. Hopefully the damage had been substantial. One less heavy flier was a great boon for them. Especially since none had appeared to be present in the camp. They had been tricked. But it had been one expensive trick for the darklings to pull. Most of those in the camp should have been burned to a crisp.
“Fengi, your hands, were you hit as well?!” Esmeralda cooed as people hurried too and from the injured dragon, hands already quickly at work cutting away her harnessing.
“No no, it is nothing. We had to put the fire out.”
The dragon groaned as leather stripes were pulled off tender skin and scales.
“You don’t pat out burning flash, Fengi. it sticks,” Esmeralda scolded as she dragged Fengi away towards the washing basins, others already rinsing off the coal dust.
“Did you do it? Did you hit the camp? We saw the fire,” Rachuck questioned hurriedly, startling Tom as he turned to the Captain.
“Yeah yeah,” he nodded. “We got it. But they set it up. Baited with darklings, not much else. Rashan took some acid, hopefully a lot. We took a fireball in return. Had to shoot a night terror, sorry ‘bout that. All in all, not great, not terrible.”
“I knew they would see this coming, following the attack by Jarix earlier. This was a fooli-”
“Shut up already. The guns have been played. Next step. They are coming, and I bet they are coming right now. He is gonna be pissed.”
The captain looked ready to reprimand for a moment before lowering his hand. “Yes, next step. Doors are sealed, Jarix has escaped into the night. They are not here yet. We will be ready.”
“Then go god dammit!” Tom snapped as he shook off his own stupor. He had places to be and people to kill. Jacky arrived right on time, face hidden behind adamantine metal. She stamped the butt of her poleaxe on the stone floor.
“Ready to crack some skulls.”
“Remember boys, don’t get taken alive. Anything moves behind us, let all know, but we do not break ranks if it happens. We will fight back to back if we have to. Kokashi, Dakota, and I have the armory door. You are to pick off as many as you can. If we fall back towards your room, you come with us. No one is left behind. Leave early, not late. If you hear the machine gun on your floor, it is your last chance to leave.” Rachuck spoke to his men as they stood assembled in the armory. More were already spread out up into the floors above. They knew the plan. All that remained was faith and steel.
The last few took their positions, torches being lit and tossed from window slits to light up the night. Then the wait began. It wouldn’t be long. It couldn’t be. The dragon’s pride had been wounded, so he would not stay his hand. All that was left to see was what was coming their way.
Minutes passed, no more. Then the crack of gunfire was heard from high in the keep. Rifles, then shotguns barking into the night. More and more barrels joining in, the fruits of their labors, burning away.
The wet thud of a body hitting the side of the keep. A chorus of beating wings as a backdrop to screams and screeches. His hand moved to the hilt of his shortened gun. He only had ten shots. His blade would have to do the rest.
“You have trained with that thing, yes?” Dakota questioned at his side. The family armor glinted in the firelight, their mother’s blade securely at her side.
“Of course, sister. Have you?”
“Not enough. What I would not give to have mother with us one last time.”
The unmistakable sound of something heavy was heard landing outside and they all tensed. The doors would not last long against a night terror.
“You best not die tonight. You would never hear the end of it.”
“Bold of you to assume we are going to heaven if we die tonight.”
“Do not worry, I will burn you, sister,” he joked as the footfalls rapidly approached. The fury of the guns barked from above.
‘Come on you bastard, just die already. They can see you. They must be shooting you.’ The creature screamed and screeched, hopefully from wounds sustained, but it kept approaching. Then a thunderous explosion, wind blowing past the seams of the door, unsettling dust on the ancient stones.
“I suppose Linkosta gets the first honor for our bloodline today brother,” Dakota smirked with relief.
“Blessed be her and father’s gifts. With a little human ingenuity.”
“What is happening!” Helvaran shouted at his stunted companions.
“B-b-boom,” the darkling at his side answered like a broken music box. He backhanded the insolent creature away.
“I can see that, what is going on?!” He stared in anger and confusion at where number six had stood moments before. The heavyset night terror lay writhing on the ground, a leg entirely removed as it was peppered with projectiles and spellfire from the keep. It would soon be dead.
What manner of horror had been found inside the sacred vaults? He had been waiting to give the signal to advance on the lower entrance to the keep. The central hall to follow soon after. Overwhelm the defenders with weight of numbers. The plan was a dismal failure, but some had made it inside the spire and were advancing. They would achieve little if they could not split the defenders.
‘Think, think, fail and you will regret it. We need cover.’
“Ca-can I I.”
“Speak god dammit Destra, what is it?”
“T-t-tunnel,” the half-braindead veteran spat out. He was a peerless fighter, but he knew only fighting. Everything else had long since left him.
Helvaran looked to see what he was on about, and there it was. The entrance to a tunnel, heading to the keep. Unlit, recessed into the ground. The dwellers did not want them to know about it. And they had not had the time to cover it properly
“Brilliant. We may advance under cover!” Helvaran looked to his assembled troops, destined for the next two prongs of assault on the keep. “Second wing, assault the base of the keep. Fight to the end. Enter every crevice and swarm the defenders. Fire bombers, burn the doors with flash torches. Go! Third wing, follow me on foot!”
The darklings reacted like well behaved clergymen, if very noisy. No complaint about being sent to their deaths as a distraction. They could not hope to breach the keep now, but perhaps they could weaken the entrance for the next attempt.
Making haste, they moved to the entrance of the tunnel. It was locked, but soon the door was broken down. It was of pitiful construction. Helvaran chuckled at the desperation of bothering to lock such a thing. His vanguard rushed inside and he followed, Destra at his side.
Inside it was dark as pitch, but they moved swiftly. Then they stopped.
“What are you waiting for! Move!”
“Block” and “Wall” came the responses.
Outraged that his experienced vanguard could not fathom a simple tunnel he moved to the front, pushing as he went. ‘You useless sacks of discards. And to think you were Royal Guard once.’ Reaching the fore he was left stumped. It really was a wall?
“What is this? Torch bearers!” he called out, and after a few moments torches were lit, lighting up the room. It was no tunnel. It was a store room! Here? “What sort of a moron builds a store room away from his home? Useless dwellers.” Then he froze.
The shelves, they were lined with jars and boxes. The labels were clear for all to see. “Blitz gel, flash powder, Acid, Danger.”
“Nobody move!” he screamed out as the whole force froze in place.
“Up- up, some. Something moved,” Destra called out, pointing. Helvaran followed his pointing arm to see what dared disobey his order. “Up there.”
By the glimmer of torchlight a small lizard could be seen on the highest shelf, bobbing its head up and down. Then it leaped from its perch.
“Stop that creature!” Helvaran called out. Blades flashed into the air, cutting and stabbing at the small flying lizard as it soared over them to the opposite shelf. It landed most poorly, tumbling onwards out of sight.
He swallowed once, then the flash of blitz shone from behind the shelf.
“Oh no.”
Hunter or Huntress 
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