The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (112 page)

"Is this supposed to protect me from their claws, fangs and fiery breath?" Jon asked the priest.

"It'll protect ye' fer a bit, aye," Morgrim said with certainty, cracking his knuckles and moving into another casting. "The Watcher'll keep us safe from the flamin’ breath o' these drakes! Of that ye can wager!"

As he finished his spellcasting, a wave of cold cascaded along Figit’s skin and head. His body shone with a hint of blue that intermixed with the amber, making it appear as a greenish hue.

"And that'll protect ye against the heat of their breath fer a few seconds at the least." The halfling shivered and felt the blazing heat of the sun no longer with this latest magic upon him.

It was just then that four of the drakes descended toward them, perhaps sensing their next meal. As the drakes flew overhead in passes, the shadows enveloped the valley. They were colossal, Figit thought as he gazed upon his daggers with a look of futility.

"Don't give in to the despair! There is always something that can be done!" Triniach called over the beat of their wings. Figit saw a flurry of arrows launched from both Twarda and Jon. Also, a bolt of shrouded darkness shot from the fingertips of Azbiel. Figit raced over to him and stood beside him, thinking to be near a mage might be safest for now

"What was that?!" he asked. "That, my little friend, was pure degenerative energy focused into a blast of destructive force!" he added as one of the drakes plummeted to the ground nearby.

"You killed one!" Figit yelled with excitement. Twarda loosed another arrow into the hide of one that she and Jon were firing upon as it came toward them and he laughed. "Now all we be needin' is about a hunnerd more o' those death bolts ta clear the sky of the red scaled beasts!"

"Frag, here come three more our way!" yelled the halfling loosening a crossbow that hung from his belt. It was small and thin and folded into something lightweight that he could use in emergencies and this qualified as an emergency, he thought. But, at least he'd be doing something, he reasoned. He fired and quickly replaced another bolt and fired it at another drake that passed by, climbing so low that it snapped its maw shut, trying to swallow him whole. The halfling dove to the ground, lying prone and just missing the snapping jaws.

“Gods! They’re huge,” he mumbled to himself.

Another of the drakes blasted the soil with flames from its open maw. Figit tumbled forward faster than he'd ever moved before. Five more began hovering overhead of them. Twarda, Azbiel, Jon and Figit kept repositioning themselves, never really getting set to fire more than one arrow at a time or being able to get off a spell before having to move again. They found themselves constantly diving out of the way of the flaming breath, the swipes of their talons or the snap of their jaws.

As he lay flat upon the ground, already scorched and blackened by fire, he considered how truly awful it would be to be caught in those fangs. It would be worse than being skewered by dozens of swords at once!

"Hey, Az," Figit yelled. "Didn't you say something about pelting Jon with
ice
yesterday?"

"I did, little man! I just need a minute or so to be able to cast the spell without having to dive to the side! My mouth is already choked with dirt!" he yelled as he began to utter the incantation. "And I would move well away from here if were you!"

"Here, lad!" Morgrim yelled to him. Both the dwarf and now Triniach, fresh smoke from a lightning bolt emitting from his hands, stood beneath a shield of force that the priest projected from his hands.

"I'm not a 'lad'!" Figit yelled to the dwarf.

Twarda and Jon both ran toward the shelter of the shield and they held their collective breath as huge chunks of ice rained down upon the ground, pelting and grounding many of the drakes. The bests hit the ground awkwardly and in droves as blocks of ice pounded them, steam pouring from their red scales.

Figit watched with wide eyes, mouth agape, never having seen anything so devastating up close. Drakes fell from the sky and Azbiel stood arms above his head, looking to Figit like some kind of god. The chunks of ice hammered the radiant shield and Morgrim held it fast, maintaining the spell, strain evident upon his face, and no one said a word to him.

For several minutes the ice storm continued, a blizzard that transformed the battlefield into a temporary bitter tundra. Figit even shivered, but was unsure of its origin was fear or the bitter chill he felt.

 When it was over, the air was clear of leathery wings and the drakes had either disappeared all together or lie dead or dying upon the moist ground. Jon, Twarda and Figit all made to finish off whatever beasts twitched or moved the slightest bit for fear that they would once more rise. Azbiel fell to the ground, exhausted from his effort. Figit found a weak spot on the underbelly of one of the drakes and stabbed at it repeatedly, its lifeblood gushing from many knife wounds. After another moment passed, it stopped moving completely.

Triniach helped Azbiel to his feet as Figit made his way to them. "I hope you still have more to give," warned the mage to Azbiel.

"Of course I do," he said, standing and straightening his robes. "Besides, the sky is clear of red-scaled beasts, aye?"

"For now," Triniach answered as he looked to the sky and rubbed his beard as if anticipating another hundred of them to appear.

Figit heard grunting in the background behind him and in the distance watched as Jon Veinslay slashed a blade that shone with holy light through the scaled exterior of a drake. The grunting however, was from behind Jon even, as he peered over him to witness Twarda chopping a drake with her axe over and over again, its blood staining her armor and face. Figit raced over to her and tried to hold back her arm as she made to swing and instead he went along for the ride.

Gods, she is strong!
he thought. She looked at him angrily and then sighed deeply. "These things be—"

"Look!" Morgrim called, pointing to the sky. They all turned to see another one that had made it free of the storm of ice. It headed with speed toward them and Figit let go of Twarda's arm finally.

"I think you can take out yer frustrations on that if you want!" Figit exclaimed, pointing at the huge beast. The drake descended toward them and opened its maw spewing fiery death along the ground where most of the group was gathered.

Figit, John and Twarda took cover behind a fallen drake's corpse as Triniach threw up a bubble of arcane magic that encased him and Azbiel. Morgrim was lost from sight, but Figit assumed that the dwarf was still protecting himself with his shield of holy origins. Flames immolated their shield, the deceased drake, as it steamed and then caught fire

As the smoke cleared, Figit turned and witnessed the huge drake right in front of him. His heart almost leaped from his chest as he rolled backward out of the way of a clawed swipe that just missed his face.

Jon Veinslay was immediately to his aid, slashing repeatedly with his bastard sword, glowing with magic. The drake spun and swiped at him next and Jon caught the blow with on shield and managed to remain upright, though he stumbled backward. He swiped at the claw again, severing a massive finger as the drake roared in pain.

Twarda was on its opposite flank and managed to hack into the drake's tail several times before Figit made it to his feet again. He sprinted toward the drake and scaled its back, using the red scales as handholds while he climbed all the way to its neck. He plunged his dagger into the scaly hide few times, probing for gaps in the beast's armor and found it on a few occasions.

Then without warning, Figit felt an onrush of air and the wind in his hair. He realized with an overwhelming fear that the wounded drake had taken flight. Then, suddenly, it stopped for just a heartbeat. Then he felt something in his stomach. It was something he’d only felt once before, but he realized with horror that he was now falling.

He felt the scales of the creature and saw that their texture had become like stone. He saw Triniach floating next to him, plucking him from the drake’s back and felt the rush of wind once more as the mage carried him off. He went limp in the mage’s arms and he heard the loud crash of the petrified drake as it crashed against the ruins below, its flight carrying it directly above the remains of Shalratha. The drake shattered into many pieces as he looked down at them, seeing them scattered all about and mixing with the wreckage.

"I didn’t know you could fly, Trin," Figit mentioned casually.

"There are many things that I can do that you are currently unaware of," the mage responded with a smile. A moment later, they were all huddled together again and Triniach addressed them.

"We need to keep pressing north. I’d like to try to make the Shimmering Lake to at least be able to have water available in abundance.” And so, the group gathered themselves and moved north again on weary legs.

“Trin, what was that attack? Do you think that there are really that many more of the damned things?” Figit asked as they walked along the scorched soil of the Hartsdale region. The old mage looked at the halfling and nodded. They walked for a few more minutes and when Figit looked to him one more time, Triniach leaned in and whispered to him.

“This is just the beginning.”

“Thank The Watcher!” Morgrim declared as he splashed the cold water of the Shimmering Lake upon his face and then filled his waterskin. “Gods be good.”

“Indeed,” agreed Azbiel as he filled his waterskin, too. “I thought you worshipped at the foot of the god of weather?”

“Aye. But we’ll be needin’ the grace o’ all the gods if we be winnin’ this day.”

The group had made it to the southern tip and continued north along its easternmost edge, crossing a ford in the Serpent Spine River as they did so. They were in between two bodies of water and Triniach believed this to be a good enough spot for them to make a stand.

“Now we wait,” he addressed the others. They all began to prepare a camp, laying out bedrolls and trying to sleep in shifts as they prepared mentally. The waters of the lake were so calm and full of fish. Jon, Figit and Azbiel all managed to catch fish using varying methods and this was able to feed them very well for the day. None of them really spoke at all, even the halfling, who almost never kept quiet. Even he was somber, Triniach noted.

And what did he expect after giving him the news that he thought the attacks would only get worse. As if on cue, a pair of drakes—larger than the others they’d seen—spotted them and dove toward the six of them.

Azbiel and Morgrim began chanting spells and Triniach waited and watched. Jon, Figit and Twarda all removed their weapons and spread out, away from their campsite.

As the drakes neared ever closer, Triniach noted that beams of light, or something that looked like that, were hitting the exposed belly of the drake. After a moment, he realized that there very well could be help out here in the wilderness.

He spoke a word and stepped out of his body and into the ethereal plane, flying quickly to discover the source of the light beams. As he neared, he saw two forest elves with bows like none he’d ever seen before. They each fired magical shafts of light that just appeared from thin air onto their bow strings. And they made minor explosions upon impact, he noted.