Sizzle of Combat

I wouldn't stop. I couldn't stop. I needed to save her.

Charging forward, I channelled as much magic as I could spare into my forefoot. The energy pooled and pulsed, scattering the sand around the steps with an explosive blast as I soared over the marina's surface. And for that brief moment, it was as though the wind of Rionriv’s magic had possessed me, pushing me beyond my limits to run faster than I ever had before.

My dash carried me forward, putting me less than thirty feet away from the elf. With an arm outstretched in a failing attempt at rescue, I watched as the dragon's mouth prepared to wrap around Aesandoral’s fetal body. No matter how hard I pushed myself, how much magic I consumed, or what I was willing to sacrifice, nothing would allow me to reach her before her end.

It was too late. I was too late.

Disappointing. Embarrassment—weakness—no son of mine—weak male. My mother’s words bit at the back of my mind, making me want to cry. To scream.

Then our gazes met. Aesandoral weakly opened an eye as bloody streams tainted the emerald gems before draining to the pool on the ground. Her hand slowly reached out to mine as she whispered muted pleas before her image began to disappear behind the cage of teeth.

No! Aes! I thought, tears trailing from my eyes as I prepared to watch her die.

An arrow flew over my shoulder from behind as a single, precise shot from Sharzin pierced the dragon's glowing left eye. The massive jaws twitched as its head pulled back from Aesandoral in shock. Not enough to cause the beast to flee, but enough to buy me the extra second I needed.

Weak. Disappointment. Embarrassment. No son—

“No!” I screamed out, banishing the thoughts from my head. “Stop it!”

Launching myself forward, I dove into Aesandoral’s body, grappling her in my embrace as I allowed the momentum to carry us forward. We tumbled away just as the jaws of the disoriented dragon snapped down at the docks, missing us entirely. Our bodies rolled, sliding a safe distance away, and, as she continued to tumble, I jumped back to my feet. Standing tall between her and the dragon, I guarded the archer’s body with everything I had. With heavy, angry breaths, I stared down the wyrm as though it were a creature I could actually handle on my own.

I will protect her—I will protect all of them! I’m not weak!

I could feel my heart racing, pounding against my chest as I held my fists up, ready for a fight. But the wyrm, noticing my stance, had yet again gone away, disappearing back beneath the sand with eyes locked on me.

“Aes—” I panicked, turning to face her.

Kneeling, I placed a hand to her face as I reached into my bottomless bag. Withdrawing my own waterskin from the storage, I poured it over her body, watching as it washed away the acid and nullifying its continual burn. With a quick examination of Aesandoral, it became clear to me just how badly burnt her pockmarked body was. I feared that if I chose the wrong potion, it would be too late to heal her of the horrific wounds. So, ignoring the fact that I already felt my magic reserves running low, I channelled what I could spare into a divine blessing.

With a gentle lift of her face, the healing magic surged forth into her. And while it wasn't enough to fully heal the wounds she had experienced, it had stabilized her weak body before she was too far gone. Stroking her cheek with my thumb, our gazes met, and I could see the joyful tears forming at the edges of her eyes. A sense of relief washed over me. The thought of losing someone who I—

"Iz." Aesandoral weakly whined, her face becoming heavy in my hand as she leaned into it. "Iz—"

“You’re going to be okay,” I said, focusing myself as I dug into my bag. “Take these and get to cover. Aim for the eyes and acid dewlaps.”

I handed Aesandoral a trio of my healing potions and turned to face the marina. As I did, I caught the shadow of something hastily rising. The dragon was returning for another strike at us. Its methods of attack were becoming predictable the longer we fought against it.

“Move!” I yelled, adjusting my body towards the archer.

Once again relying on the strength that the elixir had given me, I pressed a foot to Aesandoral’s chest and, with as gentle a shove as I could manage, thrust her to the side. She rolled several feet away, her body sliding into a barricade of boxes, sending them tumbling over her. And while I hated having to manhandle my companions, at least it kept them safe from the wyrm.

With Aesandoral out of the way, I turned to face the fog just in time as another blast of acid washed over my body. This time, ill-prepared for the assault and not channelling my own magic into defences, Rionriv’s shield flared a brilliant yellow-green. It collapsed in an instant, allowing a deluge of corrosive bile to coat me with agonizing pain.

“DYAAAAAAH!”

Crying in agony as every inch of my skin sizzled under the assault of the chemical fire that ravaged me, my knees gave out, and I collapsed to the ground. Weakly looking down, I lifted my bubbling arm and placed it on my chest. I hated to use more of my limited supply of magic, but I couldn't risk a faulty potion. In an instant, a flicker of healing magic surged through me, mending the wounds, but not nullifying the remaining acid. What I could spare wouldn’t do much to heal the pockmarked holes on my body, but it was all I could manage with the little magic I had left. Everything else was something I’d have to worry about later—

If I survived.

I looked up just in time to see the dragon’s toothy maw preparing to clamp down over my body. With acrobatic finesse, I rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the blow and leaving a layer of flesh in my wake. It felt like ripping a skintag the size of my shin from my body, leaving the fronts of my legs as a bloody mess as I tumbled into a defensive stance.

I have to keep going. I have to win. For them. For me.

Fighting to ignore the pain of my flesh being flayed from my legs and arms, I reached down to grab the nearly empty waterskin from the ground. I splashed what liquid I could over my weakening body with the mere seconds I had, nullifying some of the acid before locking my gaze on the lurking dragon. Then, with a mighty leap towards the wyrm, I focused a portion of my remaining magic to strike at the arrow still protruding from the dragon’s eye. With a trio of punches, I rammed the wooden shaft deeper into its skull before bouncing backwards and collapsing to the sand.

The dragon roared, raising its head and snapping once more for me. And, had I been alone in the fight, there would have been no doubt that its attack would have gotten me. But at that moment, Aesandoral let loose a pair of liquid-silver arrows that I watched as, in the blink of an eye, connected with the scales of the dragon's throat. They pierced through the patch of leathery skin, lodging into place and spraying a combination of blood and acid around me. 

With a thunderous cry, the wyrm threw its head from side to side in a fit of agonizing anger. Then, turning its back to me, I watched as it hastily dove down into the sand, withdrawing once again to the safety of the marina.

“What’s going on over there?” Rionriv’s voice cried in the back of my mind. “Do you need help?”

“Hold position,” I winced as I tapped my temple, scanning the fog anxiously. “Ri, it’s tougher than expected. When it’s time, light it up with everything you’ve got. Do you understand? Don't hold anything back!”

Uncorking a healing potion, I chugged the elixir and tossed the bottle behind me. Yet, once again, no restoration took hold of me. My wounds still dripped blood, as fatigue began to creep into the forefront of my mind. I didn't even have the energy to curse Phyllis and her crappy sale potions or ponder the chances of so many duds remaining in my bag. So, tapping a finger to my hip, I gave up enough magic into healing to allow me one more attack. I immediately breathed a sigh of relief as the wounds healed enough to stop hurting. 

Then, as I had done when we fought the crocmaws, I inhaled deeply and focused. Listening to the world around me, I could hear the faint water splashing in the distant pool. Gentle waves lapped against the sandy shore. Then I noticed the heavy breathing coming from Aesandoral’s direction, along with the faintest creaks of the ancient crates she pressed against for cover.

There!

“Iz, behind you!” Aesandoral yelled into my mind.

We had both heard the slightest sound of sand shifting over my shoulder. It was to my right, towards where Sharzin had been hiding.

I surged the remaining magic through my body and down to my toes, as I felt the exhaustion gripping my legs. Moving as fast as my feet would take me, I pushed myself past my limits, feeling as the magic drained from me like the last drops of water from a bottle. This was all I could do. All I had left. One more attack.

With a somersault, I retrieved my staff from the dune where I had thrown it. Finishing the flip, I primed my legs like a spring before lunging into the air, gripping my weapon firmly. I was ready this time. Ready to strike.

The dragon’s head rose, clicking excitedly as it prepared to spray down on a boulder where I assumed Sharzin hid. But I was already mid strike. With a wild swing, I brought the staff down hard atop the wyrm’s head. Attacking with enough force to snap the weapon in half, the dragon wrenched its snout away at the last moment and instead splashed its acid down to the sand beneath it.

Having reached my apex and beginning the plummet down, I channelled the last few drops of my magic and strength into a final throw of the splintered staff. I watched as the fragmented javelin struck true, driving into the wound Aesandoral’s arrows had opened in the throat of the monster, spilling more blood across the sand.

Then, in response to my assault, the beast swung its head around, snapping at my helpless body and trapping me between its jaws.