45

Miraveh had made a gamble. A gamble she prayed she would not regret, as she regretted so many other things. Even with her greater potential, she had difficulty in sensing individual magic wielders around her. The sense of magic pervaded the air. Those within the stronghold. Those Karline on the plains below, and those beginning the trek up the slope, shielding their brother and sister Hunters. Others, hidden and awaiting their parts. She hoped that the encompassing sense of magic would confuse the enemy, too.

It took all her strength not to rush back to the keep and retrieve the unicorn horn. To take it in hand and sweep away the Hunters O' The Dark, but she still feared the cost and she doubted anyone else could channel the raw power of such an artefact without their souls becoming blackened, or their bodies, as Yaerual's fingers had blackened and burned. If needs be, she would take up the horn and the consequences be damned, but the situation was not that desperate. Not yet.

Down, along the curling slope toward the plains below, Vendurthia hid. With a goblin and an elf by her side, shrouded by an illusion of stone created by the goblin, they waited. The Hunters made steady progress, watching the battlements of the stronghold, their magical barrier raised about them, ready to fend off any physical attack. To make it seem genuine, Miraveh gave the signal to those on the battlements, and rocks began to fly once more.

"They'll be seen! Why don't they make their attack?" Miraveh could understand Sialira's impatience, the young Witch's feet twitching as though about to run down the slope herself. "Miraveh! Do something!"

She couldn't make Sialira understand. A child of the Coven of Scales, she had spent her entire life separated from the world at large. She had never seen the cruelties of war, how it had its flows and rules. Though Miraveh, herself, had not had the experience of such things as Alran had, or Kay, or Yusuvur, she had seen enough. Alran had taught her much that she had only touched upon in her own battle experience. She wondered whether any of these people would still listen to her, were they to know this was her first time leading a battle alone?

"They know when to start." She tugged Sialira closer as a hail of rocks flew towards them from below, but Miraveh's magical barrier held. "Any moment now."

The rocks were now aimed towards her, standing upon the outcropping, giving those Karline below something to aim for. In doing so, she saved those within the keep from the worst of the bombardment, but still some of those rocks passed overhead, over the outer walls of the stronghold, to land within the castle itself. She could only hope that those within remained hidden.

As the groups of Hunters passed by the position where Vendurthia and her fellows hid, Miraveh's breath caught. Three packs of Hunters, each with a Karline at each corner, a score of warriors within each pack. They made steady progress, marching in step, intending to fall upon Miraveh and everyone within the keep, given the chance, but neither Miraveh or her stalwart defenders were about to give them that chance.

As the third pack of Hunters passed by Vendurthia's hiding place, the illusion of stone fell and the goblin began to cast magic upon stone, as was the talent of most goblins, Miraveh had learned. Yet, instead of sending showers of rocks toward their enemy, or causing great boulders to fall upon them, the goblin looked to smaller things. Smaller and a multitude.

The Hunters thought in restricted ways. They thought of attacks from the sides, from the front or the rear, from above. What they did not expect was an attack from below and, at that, not really an attack. It was a shift. Not a breaking of the ground, though if Miraveh could have spared one of the remaining relics, she did not doubt the goblin could have performed such a task, but a movement.

Sialira stiffened beside Miraveh as she saw what everyone could see. The ground beneath the feet of the Hunters began to move. Slowly, at first, then gaining strength. It looked as though the sloping path shimmered in the fading light of the day. And then the Hunters began to lose their footing. They slipped and slid, booted feet struggling to find purchase upon a ground that moved every time they sought to plant a foot. All three packs of Hunters began to slide, some fell, though they continued to move, carried by the shifting grains of sand and dirt that coated the slope.

The slide sent them all falling back down the slope in disarray and, were this a normal battle, they would fall back with only bruises to their bodies and egos to contend with. But this was not a normal battle. Now the elf took up magical arms. A young thing, little more than a boy, he raised his hands, fingers spreading and wood and plants did the boy's bidding.

They had planted slivers of wood at the sides of the path and now they shot from the ground, passing underneath whatever magical barrier the Karline had managed to sustain, ripping into feet, into legs, groins, even upper bodies. Plants grew, from deep slumber beneath the dusty ground, fastening upon unwary Hunters and wrapping about throats, legs, arms, tightening and crushing.

Vendurthia added her own magic, raising a wind to wrap around individual Hunters, tossing them from the slope to tumble down the steep sides toward the plains below, crashing and bashing against rocks and stones as they fell. Miraveh could feel her fist tighten as she saw the Hunters rushing to return back down the slope, fighting against each other to reach the safety of their comrades once more.

Yet, through it all, Yaerual had stood, watching the approach, the reveal of Vendurthia and her companions, the chaos and the rout. Miraveh did not like how he remained so calm and then, with a slight turn of the head and a dismissive point with a burned finger, he brought forward the line of archers and, as one, they let fly dozens of arrows towards Vendurthia, the elf and the goblin. The archers nocked and loosed two more flights of arrows before the first had even landed.

The flights of arrows did not differentiate between friend or foe, enemy or ally. The flights carpeted the entire area, piercing the flesh of the still-living and the dead, indiscriminately. Vendurthia, the elf, the goblin and several Hunters all died from that storm of arrows and Sialira buried her head into Miraveh's chest. Miraveh wished she had a warm body that she could find comfort in, but she could not turn her eyes from the battle. They had lost three of their own, but Yaerual and the Hunters had lost far more.

"Turotara, prepare everyone for magical skirmishing. They'll hit us hard now. And send someone to check those bodies and bring back any relics they find." She tore her gaze away from Yaerual, below, and scowled as Turotara began to head towards the slaughter. "Not you! You are my captain! Send someone else and prepare the others!"

This was not the time for Turotara to practice the controlled insubordination Miraveh wanted her to have. Too much lay balanced upon everyone performing their duties. With a grim nod, the big woman began to stride back towards the main gates, shouting as she went. Seconds later a young elf ran past Miraveh, Sialira and Brothimir, heading towards the dead upon the slope. The same elf who had brought news to Turotara earlier.

"You've bitten their heels. They'll be wary of more sneak attacks now." At her shoulder, Brothimir sounded out of breath, as though he, too, had held it during that skirmish. "It was a small victory for you, but it will show them you are not to be underestimated. I think they'll ..."

"They will attack with everything they have." Even now, Miraveh saw the ranks of the Hunters reforming, taking on different shapes. A different strategy. "Yaerual has taken it as a personal insult, but he will also have noticed how few people we have used in each of our attacks. He knows our greater defences lie within and thinks he can rush us."

Sure enough, after a short period of organising, the entire field of Hunters began to mobilise. This time with larger packs, more Karline surrounding them, the archers taking the flanks and the reserves taking the rear. They began to march at speed towards the slope and Miraveh didn't think the same trick would work again.

The young elf came racing back towards Miraveh, shaking a hand in the air from which three relics dangled from his fingers. He laughed as he ran past and Miraveh marvelled at how easy it came to children to shrug off things such as death and war. Or, perhaps, it was only elven children that could do so, or this elven child alone. Regardless, she doubted she could have searched the dead with such ease.

For the slightest moment, she took her eyes from the enemy to watch the boy run back to the stronghold, only to see him stop and stare into the sky, the hand holding the relics dropping to his side, his jaw opening, his eyes widening. And Miraveh could see others, coming from behind their barricades, stepping out from beyond the broken doors of the stronghold. A fury began to build inside her. A fury born of the stupidity of civilians not understanding war and that they could all die.

Pushing Sialira away, she began to stride back towards them, ready to shout orders, clip ears if she must, but no-one turned to her. All eyes had raised to the sky and, when a great shadow fell upon them all, blotting out the light of the Sun, she knew. Even before the heart-rending roar pierced the air, rattling ear drums and teeth, she knew what they stared at.

She turned towards the sound of flapping, leathery wings.

-+-

Even from this distance, Miraveh could see the dragon's golden eyes locked upon her. It wheeled and circled above the stronghold, dived down, wings outstretched, and glided above the forces of the Hunters O' The Dark, casting a great shadow upon them all. Many, most, of the Hunters broke ranks, running and screaming in terror as the dragon passed overhead, as though the shadow of the immense creature touched their souls and thrust fear into their hearts.

Yaerual did not move, though he turned to watch as the dragon flew past, a great wind following in its wake. The lead Hunter hunched his shoulders, but that remained the only sign that the appearance of the dragon had affected him. Within seconds, Yaerual had begun to shout and yell at his retreating forces, his companions following his lead.

Even here, at the stronghold, Miraveh could hear the terrified voices that had laid eyes upon the dragon. She turned to see everyone but Turotara, Sialira and Brothimir running back through the shattered gates. Yet even Turotara had a noticeable tremble to her, eyes as wide and awe-filled as Miraveh had ever seen her express. Sialira gripped Miraveh's sleeve while Brothimir fell to the ground, cowering with his hands protecting his head.

"Turotara? Turotara!" The shout from Miraveh tore the guard's eyes from the dragon but they continued to flicker between her and the great beast. "You have seen the dragon before! Control yourself and calm the others. The dragon is not here to fight us!"

Turotara set her jaw, nodded and turned toward the gates, while above, the portal through which the dragon had emerged, high in the sky, collapsed and disappeared. The dragon had flown far toward the sea and then turned, in a graceful arc, heading back this way. Miraveh did not wish to hold out hope that the dragon had come to give them aid, but it was not something she could stop. She did hope, despite knowing the dragon had little concerns for mortals. She needed to hope.

It seemed to take an age for the dragon to return, its long neck stretched out before it, long, thick body weaving as it flew, wings flapping only once in a while, keeping it aloft until it reached the stronghold once more. Then, with great, storm-like winds generated by its wings, it came to land upon the slope outside the walls of the stronghold with a doom-laden thump of a sound that caused a tremor beneath Miraveh's booted feet.

The dragon folded its wings along its body and looked down upon Miraveh. The last time she met the dragon, she felt that it appraised her and that feeling returned, even as the dragon looked away to the broken outer walls of the stronghold. Somehow, Miraveh had the feeling the dragon knew what Miraveh had hidden within those walls that towered above everyone else, but looked like a minor hindrance to the magical creature.

"Miraveh Arachild." The dragon's voice slammed into Miraveh's chest and she felt Sialira dig her fingers deeper upon her arm. Brothimir had shuffled closed to Miraveh, fingers clutching at her boots, his head still bowed. "You have claimed a perch, I see."

"Dragon." No matter the terror that filled her, Miraveh refused to look away from those intense, golden, cat-like eyes that studied her. "What brings you here? From the little I know of you, I doubt you have come to ally yourself with us. We are only mortals, after all."

"In that, you would be correct." The dragon's eyes turned to Sialira. It gazed at the young Witch for a long moment before turning that gaze to the cowering Brothimir. "The bravery of your servants leaves much to be desired. Stand, children! That I may see the faces of those that serve The Seeker."

Miraveh swallowed the retort that rose in her throat. Sialira and Brothimir knew they weren't servants. She had no need to say it so. Sialira moved first, raising her head to look to Miraveh before turning, her eyes flickering to the ground and up, uncertain whether she should or should not look directly at the dragon. Once she did look, she gained the self-same look of awe that had crossed Turotara's features. Brothimir glanced and then fell back to his knees. Miraveh surmised the fear he felt were not the only reason he could not look to the dragon.

"Enough of intimidating my friends, dragon!" Upon saying 'friend' she looked to Brothimir and wondered when she had begun to consider him as such, if she truly did. "If you are not here to aid us, then why have you come? You fought the Hunters in Jukunashar, why not here?"

"They thought to claim my perch in Jukunashar. That, I could not allow." The dragon's long tail swished and flicked, causing rocks and stones to shift in the wash of its movement. The dragon seemed ... irritated. "Here, now, I cannot be seen to interfere. This is a pivotal moment and I am here to observe, nothing more. If my presence happens to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies, that is a coincidence the universe allows."

The dragon's head swept to the side and it looked down toward the forces of the Hunters O' The Dark. Under the iron will of Yaerual, they had started to return to the field, though not in any semblance of the practiced order of before. The dragon lifted its head and roared to the skies, causing another rush of panic below, before it rested its head once more. A rumbling sound emerged from deep within the beast. It sounded reminiscent of a booming chuckle.

"You cannot be seen to interfere?" That turn of phrase confused Miraveh. It stuck in her mind, pushing aside other concerns for the moment. "By the universe itself? Who, or what, could tell a dragon what it can or cannot do? Help us, or we shall surely die this day!"

"I cannot!" The dragon's tail snapped in time with its words, wings shifting as though it were about to take flight once more. "There are beings in this world that even I cannot deny. Beings whose power rivals that of the gods and they watch this play with great interest. As do I."

The dragon turned its appraising eye to the side and Miraveh heard the sound of Turotara's plate armour rattling as she returned. As Miraveh looked toward her, she could see the warrior had regained her composure, though she still gave the dragon a nervous look.

"The people hide, but their resolve remains." She came to stand beside Miraveh, her back straight, her hand resting upon her sheathed sword, but Miraveh could still hear a slight rattle from her armour. "They will be able to fight, when the time comes."

A snort emerged from the dragon, causing hot air to strike the four people before it, and then it stood upon all four legs, rising up above them. It stretched out its wings and one scraped the side of the mountain, sending rock tumbling from the face. It looked ready to take flight once more, but didn't. It stood there, head higher than the battlements of the outer walls, and continued to stare down toward Miraveh.

The creature turned its head, again, towards the stronghold and, this time, Miraveh had no doubt that the dragon looked in the direction of the unicorn horn. Whether it could sense the magical artefact, or it had, somehow, communicated with the freed unicorn itself, Miraveh could not speculate. It knew, though, that Miraveh had a weapon that could end this fight as easy as were the dragon to fly down and scorch the forces of the Hunters O' The Dark with fiery breath.

"You have a choice, Miraveh Arachild, and it is that choice interested forces wish to observe." The dragon shifted its feet and, with every movement, the very ground beneath their feet shifted and rippled. "You can vent your righteous fury upon these parasites below, or you can find another avenue to victory. One choice could lead to peace for the world, the other to even greater conflict. The thread of the tapestry is yet to be stitched."

"Which choice leads to which outcome?" For the first time, Sialira stirred, though she continued to cling to Miraveh. "Without context, it means nothing. You may think you are helping, but you have only served to make her second-guess herself. Is that your purpose here, to lay confusion upon her? If so, shame on you!"

Now, the dragon did laugh, wings rippling, tale whipping. It raised its head and flickers of flame belched from its mouth as its entire body shook. Then, in an instant, the laughter stopped and the dragon's head fell at great speed toward the ground. It stopped before hitting the dirt and sand surface, its muzzle mere feet from the four of them, but its golden eyes fixed upon Sialira.

"Sialira." At mention of her name, the young Witch almost jumped behind Miraveh. Turotara stepped forward, though Miraveh could not understand what the guard thought she could do against such a mammoth beast. "You have proven yourself loyal and defiant, for and toward your master, and, for that alone, you have my respect. But, do not test me."

"Enough, dragon!" Miraveh stepped forward, placing herself between the dragon and her three companions. "If that is all you have to say, then be off with you. We have a battle to fight and we cannot do so with you in the way. Go. Observe and remember all those who die this day. For I certainly will."

The dragon opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharp, serrated teeth, blackened by flame. Almost every one of those teeth as tall as a man, or greater. The tongue flickered against one of those teeth before the dragon closed its mouth, raised its head once more and began to flap its wings. It seemed impossible that such an enormous creature could fly without the aid of magic. Whether it did or not, the wings sent out gusts of wind, sending whorls of dust dancing away, creating a cloud about them all.

A sound as though the very air had become ripped apart reached Miraveh's ears as she clenched her eyes closed, hand before her face, protecting herself from the dust, and she knew the dragon had taken flight. As the dust settled, she watched the ancient creature circling, high above, screeching and roaring, before it headed for the peak of a smaller mountain nearby.

It landed there, folding its wings, wrapping its long tail against the snow capped tower of rock and lowered its head and Miraveh knew it could see as well from there as it could from here. She knew the dragon watched her and the decision it believed she had before her. Yet Sialira was wrong. It had not confused her, nor made her second-guess herself. She knew what she needed to do. Though knowing what to do and doing it were entirely different things. Until that decision fell to her, however, she had a battle to fight.

And the Hunters O' The Dark were regrouping.