The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (117 page)

He mouthed a spell, still floating within his Sphere of Protection and a blast of frosty cold burst forth from his body, enveloping all of the drakes in one major blast, icing over all four of them simultaneously. He watched in delight as they plummeted to the lake below and whose surface had turned to a sheet of ice for as far as the eye could see in every direction. It was not a by-product of his icy blast, he knew, and wondered where it had come from.

Then he saw Azbiel again, standing on top of the frozen lake and launching himself into the sky as the frozen drakes crashed and then shattered against the unforgiving surface of ice.

"Now I’m pissed," Azbiel said to him as his body faded from sight and became incorporeal. His eyes turned to a shade of red and shone brightly as his ethereal body went limp, hovering there in midair. Triniach watched a drake that passed by, its eyes mirroring the very same red glow as the sorcerer’s.

The drake immediately shifted in midflight and dove at another of its kin, landing on top of it. It launched a series of clawed strikes and used its teeth to bite into the scaled flesh behind its neck, tearing out a rather sizeable piece. The victim fell helplessly to the icy lake below as that same drake attacked another.

"That seems like a good idea," Triniach mentioned to the empty air as he realized that Azbiel had possessed the drake and made it his own vessel of destruction.

Triniach followed suit.

This newest pawn in the game strode right up to a drake that had just landed on the far side of the ruins of Shalratha, several hundred paces from them. Figit could see him well in the light of dawn now, especially with his gifted vision.

The man launched a jade-hued wave of some kind of magic—Figit couldn’t tell what—into the drake. The wave of energy swept over it and the drake jerked its head violently, going into spasms for several moments before falling lifelessly to the ground.

The man looked around and made his way toward them. He seemed to pick up his pace once he caught sight of both he and Serifel. The monk tensed suddenly, motioning as if he were going to attack him, but Figit held his arm and shook his head.

"Let's see what he wants first,” he advised. “He killed a drake, so he might be on our side."

Serifel merely frowned. "He has the markings of the god of death."

Figit shrugged. "I don’t much care. As long as he isn’t covered in scales, it doesn’t matter to me, eh?"

Serifel rolled his eyes at that comment, scanned the battlefield and ran off, leaving a very curious halfling behind.

Triniach jumped out of his vessel just as two of its kin were clawing at it and had the possessed drake pinned between them in midair. Azbiel's drake was still fighting and so the mage felt himself falling back into his body, which was safely hidden within the ethereal plane.

As soon as his mind connected with his body, he found himself on the surface of the frozen lake. He immediately ascended into the sky, levitating with but a simple word and grasping his staff in both hands.

As several more drakes nearby noted the mage, they immediately made their way toward him. He invoked a Sphere of Protection once more and as they neared, three of them now, he unleashed a blast of arcane borne projectiles that connected with all three of the drakes. It was a magnificent display of pure arcane might and it downed all three of them.

The sky was beginning to clear slightly and Azbiel appeared on the ground below him, his possessed drake apparently dead or dying too.

"That was fun," he mentioned as he quickly joined Triniach in the sky and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look out!" Azbiel said, shoving the mage aside as Triniach floated past him. He turned to regard a rather large drake encroaching on them silently. Azbiel fired a beam of black-green origin past Triniach that struck the incoming drake and enveloped it in that same sickening hue. Nothing was left behind but a faint glow as the drake faded into oblivion.

"Thanks," Triniach said, nodding his head in appreciation.

"I wouldn’t be overly excited. All I did was prolong the inevitable."

He looked away from Triniach and headed into the sky just as another swarm of drakes came into view from behind the clouds in the distance.

Triniach sighed at that announcement and felt that perhaps the mage spoke truly.

The ground force--as Figit was calling it now--was all but finished with dispatching of the drakes that had until recently occupied the ruins outer edges. And the elves of Amrel had moved a bit closer to join Sinadow and his cat. They formed a veritable wall of bowmen standing out in the open, nearing the Shimmering Lake’s southern edge. He hoped they would stick around.

They had a brief respite from the fight as Figit looked skyward to observe both of the sorcerers hovering in the sky with its approaching dawn. The lake was a mostly-frozen wasteland and the ground was cluttered with dozens of dead scorching drakes of all sizes. It looked absurd to Figit who shook his head in disbelief of it all. 

Both Morgrim and Beulah were tending to various wounds on Jon, Barnabus and on Twarda, who was completely trapped beneath the paw of a drake briefly, until Barnabus hacked that paw clean off.

Figit watched Serifel move off alone to sit on the roof of a half-broken building and close his eyes. It appeared as if he were deep in meditation.

"I am here to help, halfling. I have nowhere left to go and my god desires me to grant him the lives of my enemies or myself in this struggle."

"Cheery," Figit said, stifling a chuckle, as the man removed his helm. "You’re not from around here, are you?"

“Where I am from is of no import.” The man looked at him with wide dark eyes, his demeanor unflinching. "I am a servant of The Reaper."

 "And I'm a servant of my own desires...usually. This is different than what I'm used to, though. There’s never been a better time to choose a god, I suppose. I’m still undecided," Figit responded with his hands on his hips. "I'm Figit. That distrusting monk over there is Serifel and he's none too pleased to meet ya. The rest of the group is over there," he said pointing to them.

The majority of the group was on the outskirts of Shalratha's ruins still. Most of the ground around them was charred black by fire and the ruins were reflective of a similar state, showing marks that resembled the ground around them.

"I am Bain," said the priest, replacing the skull helm on his head. The others wandered over to them, warily at first.

"We're not e'en able ta give Coles a proper burial," sobbed Beulah, her eyes moist with tears.

"Who be this?!" barked Barnabus curtly, adjusting his dented helm and dismissing the dwarven priest's sentiment.

"He be a worshipper of death," stated Morgrim. "I be knowin' all about them skulls and their meanin'," he added with a certain accusation or distrust in his tone, Figit could not tell which.

"Well, he ain’t here ta kill us...right?" Figit asked with his hands out wide. The man shook his head side to side in agreement of that.

"That's reassuring," called Serifel from behind them, evidently finished with his meditation.

"We've got incoming drakes." Figit pointed to the horizon and more of the red scaled dragons filled the skyline with their wings and tails.

The beasts dove straight toward them and the two mages who yet hovered in the sky just as a volley of arrows greeted them, originating from the horde of elves in the distance. They brought down one after the other, arrow shafts protruding from them enough that they reminded Figit of a hideously scaled porcupine.

"Back to it!" Barnabus yelled. Twarda slapped her shield over and over again in agreement as they raced off toward an area where four drakes managed to land unscathed.

"Here we go again," Figit said, racing after them all.

Triniach looked to Azbiel and leaned in to him. "I say we introduce these dragons to the chill of the frozen north."

Azbiel nodded. "You got it. Besides, the ice on the river is starting to melt."

With that, both wizards held out their hands, Triniach still maintaining his staff, as they mouthed the words in unison. With each word, clouds began to roll in from as far as the eye could see, blotting out the sun. Within seconds, snow began to fall once more just as Azbiel had done earlier to great effect. But this time, the sorcerer had the power of Triniach to bolster the storm’s intensity.