The War of the Fallen Son
The Edari seemed endless to the defenders as they held the line against them. Though a grunt or wizard fell, another would come to take its place. How much more could the cities take?
The Khutit-Edari of Chiconis rammed his obsidian blade through the throat of one of the guards, shards of obsidian tearing open the hapless dragon’s gullet. Stepping atop the creature’s broken body, he saw that his push was successful; despite the rallying defenders, they had swept into the city and the Edari battled the dragons with ferocious abandon. Stretching out one limb, black ooze rose through his wrist. It formed into the shape of a small black dragon. “My lord, the Battle for Chiconis proceeds well, but we have not yet captured the Travel Gate,” the general spoke.
“Excellent. You are doing well, my child,” Maurger said through the goo-sentient connection.
A second form appeared: the other Edari-Khutit. “Defense at Dralk has been stronger than anticipated. We have not approached the Gate as yet,” the second spoke in its guttural tones.
“Understood. Now is the time to switch targets – they will not expect your next move. Take and hold the citadel, and use the spell the mages created. You may use the Vanguard,” Maurger said. The black dragon moved its paws intricately, focused on his unseen task.
“It shall be done, lord,” the generals said in unison. Each channeled their dark power through their obsidian blades, launching a ball of dark prime into the air like a signal flare.
The dragons of Dralk had fought the enemy to a standstill, holding the pass into the city in front of the floating citadel of rock. Black ooze ran on the ground like blood and mingled with the blood of dragons injured or slain. The guard of Dralk had been rallied from all corners and even Byrsmendrik had returned to fight. Valkoth roared his appreciation to his kyn, and his ire to his foes.
“Glorious combat! Maginval Lunus himself would be pleased with our defense! Fight on, for the glory of all dragons! For the survival of our race and culture!” Valkoth exclaimed.
Chiconis has been less fortunate. Semeneth’s late arrival with Ausixen had left the defenders unprepared. Two dragons had stood alongside an unready guard and Town Marshall, defending the city until their arrival. The travel gate had been spared, but the enemy was still pushing into all levels of the town.
“Ausixen! Get to the front! I will coordinate the battle from the air!” Semeneth exclaimed, taking off and roaring to his fellow dragons to rally. Ausixen did as asked, coming alongside Frith-Rae as she battled the horde of Edari.
The ground shook as the second wave approached, lead by another general.
“Go forth, Edari! Today, we shall earn our right to live!” The second general of Dralk shouted. About the size of an adult dragon, but with a short neck and tail, the general reared up and roared a hateful screech over the defenders of the city. He was perched up above the defenders on the ridge overlooking Dralk. One brave dragon flew at him, but was eviscerated by a tendril of black, holding to a black steel blade; however, the tendril had not come from the armadillo-general, but from the army behind him.
A number of sphere-shaped Edari arrived, plates of rock moving around at the end of powerful black tendrils. They maneuvered so that many were on the floor and several were on top of them. Climbing onto them were their partners: the Swords of the Edari. Light stone and thick ooze joints like disgusting muscles of tar climbed onto the platform created from their partner’s plates. The Shield leapt off the cliff, using its defensive plates like a sled across the ash and stone.
“Ambush! It’s a pincer!” Valkoth shouted as the Edari Vanguard surrounded the defenders at the rear with the grunts and wizards still at the front.
One of the dragons rushed up to a dismounting Sword and blew his hot breath, but its Shield reacted as if by instinct – instead of hitting the target intended, the plates of the Shield had intercepted the flame with minimal damage. The dragon moved to retreat, but from under the plates stretched the deadly steel-tipped arm of the Sword, ramming into the dragon’s chest, the wound deteriorating and aging. The dragon stumbled back and fell.
The Boulder-General rolled into a ball and followed down the hill, joining the front and his fellow general. Kneeling down, the Boulder-General allowed the Edari-Khutit to mount him. His compatriot rode him forward into battle, roaring his own cry of victory.
Maekrux turned and approached the rear front carefully. Tossing prime bolts was a hopeless endeavor – even if the plates of the Shield were destroyed, it would replace them by tearing a piece out of the ground. Turning his flank to the pair, he blew a burst of flame at the Sword; as expected, the Shield defended and the Sword struck. He jumped forward, avoiding the blades as his breath continued, even as he ran around the pair. Though the Sword was defended, the Shield did not defend itself and the flame snuck into the eye-core. The Shield screeched as it burned from within and then was still.
Maekrux moved in to finish the sword, but it immediately began to slice and move wildly, the stretching arms becoming a whirlwind of deadly steel. Hopping back, Maekrux pummeled the Sword again and again with bolts of Prime until it at last fell.
“These are stronger than the last ones… could he really have developed these in so short a time?” Maekrux asked, panting heavily. He realized it then, amongst the screams and roars of his kyn and golems. Maurger had been in hiding for years before the Academy, working on these with the knowledge he had stolen from him. It made the Blue Phoenix seethe with anger. “You used my knowledge of golems, but did not realize I gleaned it from destroying them? I shall remind you, Maurger!” He roared as he charged back into the battle.
With the dragons distracted by the attack from behind, a group of Edari Wizards formed behind the main line. Clustered together, their robes wild with dark energy, they knelt to the ground and chanted with hateful energy, their black robes seeping into the ground. The air took on a stale quality as the ash fell heavily, and the igneous rock of the city of Dralk became darker, weaker. The very Prime of the earth began to drain the energy from the hapless defenders.
