The Destined Duel

The Highking steps forward, confidently leaving his two companions behind. Across from him stands Aster. The Prophecised Champion. Also alone. Already marked by the battle, blood trickles from small cuts, his shirt torn open. Yet he looks calm. Ready. Focused. His eyes are locked on the Dragon King with a fire that burns hotter than any fireball thrown today.

Standing next to Alder, safely on the hill, Diane watches with her breath caught in her throat. Fingers gripping her bow tightly to prevent them from trembling as all eyes turn to the clearing where the prophecy unfolds. What was the line again?

A field of blood, a duel of fangs

The field is red from blood indeed. A battle between fangs? Furry beast against scaly dragon. The two men, still in human shape, step forward, the space between them now a private zone no one else would dare to enter. The air crackles with tension.

The King shimmers first, a dull red glow that marks his shift. His human form melts away in a spiral of heat and power. Wings burst from his spine and spread wide, shadowing the battlefield like dusk come early. His other form is enormous. Long, elegant neck ending with a head crowned by spiky horns. A monstrous face with sly yellow eyes and too many rows of sharp teeth. Not fire but smoke puffs out of his giant maw. A true dragon. Impossible.

She wants to run to them, scream for the heavens to stop this madness. But she can only watch as the fated lines play out. It’s too late for anything or anyone to interfere. She knows this even before Aster shimmers. Before the maelruk stands face to face with his much larger opponent.

The two of them start by circling, seizing each other up. Despite its size, the dragon moves in a feline, graceful way, the tip of its tail swaying from side to side. Then Aster glows briefly, his body growing not quite to double size, but almost. Lilah. That must be her doing. He’s still dwarfed by the dragon, and Diane chews her lip nervously as he crouches down, hind legs tense and ready to charge.

The Dragon King opens his maw and lets out a solid pillar of fire.

The maelruk leaps straight through it, ignoring the way the flames lick his fur, leaving more than the infected area on his shoulder scorched and black. Claws crash against scales, ripping and tearing as teeth seek hold on the armored neck of the dragon, but fail. He lets go and falls to the ground, only to leap straight back in with much greater force.

The impact is like thunder, shockwaves rippling through the air, knocking soldiers to their knees. Diane clings to Alder’s arm, heart slamming in her chest, but they both remain standing, eyes locked to the battle.

The dragon rears back, tail whipping, catching the Champion in the side. No! Diane cries out as he’s flung into a boulder with such force that the stone explodes, sending bloodied fragments flying. On the ground, Aster lifts his head, but doesn’t rise.

No. No, no, get up. Please, get up.

She readies a mana arrow, irrationally wonders whether it would count as cheating. Aster had told her not to interfere, to focus on the others, but she has to make sure he survives. She has to. She pulls the string taut. Watching.

He rises. Stands on all fours, shaking off dust and dirt, soft fur rippling like a dog shaking off water. Diane smiles and relaxes her arm. She’ll save what little mana she has left until it’s really needed.

With a roar that splits the sky, the maelruk surges forward again, faster this time. He pounces, sinking claws deep into the dragon’s neck, dragging him down with earth-shaking force. Sharp teeth break through the strong scale and the Dragon King howls in agony. They roll together. Amid bloodcurdling snarls and bouts of flame, they fight with teeth, claws, and tail. A desperate beat of wings sends Aster flying once more, while the dragon recovers onto its feet.

Both beasts are bleeding from a multitude of scratches as they return to the circling that had initiated the fight. Time stops and drags endlessly as they charge and dodge, Diane’s fingers digging harder into Alder’s arm with each slash and blow.

The dragon’s wings sweep through the air, carving down storms with every beat, forcing Aster to crouch down, claws gripping deep in the dirt. Blinded by the flying sand, he blinks, and the dragon sees its chance. Giant maw clasping around the maelruk’s neck. Lifting him. Shaking him. Tossing him. Leaving his body limp on the ground, a dark puddle growing around it. The dragon steps forward, raising its head in triumph, spreading its wings wide. Blocking her view. Blocking her arrows.

Diane screams. So does Alder.

“Brother!” He takes off with Diane close behind. She soon loses sight of him as she tries to get through the soldiers blocking her path. Slow, she’s much too slow. Panic clenches at her heart even as tears fall down her cheeks, as she struggles to get closer. Aster. She has to help him. Has to reach him.

She has just reached the front lines when a huge dark brown bear comes rushing through the lines of men, heading straight for the dragon. As large as it is, it doesn’t stand a chance, and an almost negligent sweep of a wing sends the bear rolling, sliding along the ground until it comes to an ungraceful stop lying on its side. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rafe and Lilah running toward it, but whatever is happening over there can wait. Aster. She needs to get to Aster.

Stepping forward, alone and desperate, she stares at the massive dragon that’s in her way. It turns its head, yellow eyes fixing on her. She swallows hard, unsure what to do.

As the dragon takes a step toward her, she hears it. The growl. 

This time, it fills her with joy, not fear.

It’s the beast. Its thoughts echoing through her mind, the force of its wrath almost sending her to her knees. The growl reaches thunderous levels, and then she sees it, even larger than before. Sharp fangs are buried deep in the humerus on the dragon’s wing, claws tearing through the stretched skin, rendering the wing useless. It, no, he lets go long enough to reposition himself and get his bearings before attacking again. He’s relentless, merciless. The word ‘kill’ echoes in Diane’s mind as the beast keeps wearing his opponent down.

Not that losing a wing has made the king defenseless, and he fights bravely, just as cruelly as the beast. Every roar, every crash of claw on scale, sends fresh tremors across the battlefield, but it’s clear the tide has turned. Aster has somehow gotten the upper paw.

The Dragon King rears, flame flickering at the corners of his jaws, desperate, but he’s slower now. A scream, almost metallic, rips through the air as the beast drives impossibly long razor-sharp claws into the Dragon King’s chest, right through the seams where scale meets scale. The ground shakes beneath their tumble, hidden beneath mighty wings. Snarls and grunts and cries of pain echo around them, until a single high-pitched cry fills the air. Then there’s only silence.

The Dragon King is still. Collapsed. Silent. Smoke rises from his maw and nostrils. His wings twitch once, twice… then they shimmer and disappear, leaving the broken man in the place of the dragon. The Champion is victorious, and a loud cheer echoes from the Akeyokuni troops. But Diane doesn’t cheer with them.

The beast is down. He lies beside his fallen foe, massive body heaving, paws twitching slightly. Blood pours from a deep wound on his side, creating a dark pool around him. Soft fur matted and stained from blood and scorched by dragonfire.

Her feet are already moving. She runs past the broken bodies of friend and foe until she falls on her knees on the hard, barren ground beside them.

“Stay with me,” she whispers, voice cracking, though her healing fire is ready. Her hands steadier than her voice.

The blood slows down to a trickle as the wound closes, and he raises his head. Wet snout poking her, hot breath hits her face, and she laughs, sobs, laughs again as she throws her arms around the beastly neck, healing spells still at work. As soon as he’s strong enough, he shimmers and shrinks until he’s lying in front of her, head on her lap, arms around her waist. He looks up at her, one eye still swollen shut when the last of her mana sputters and dies.

“Told you I’d win. No need for all this fuss.” His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper, and the words set off a series of coughs. Blood suddenly drips from his lips, and his eye closes. His breathing slows, chest barely moving. No.

Internal damage. Pretty bad. She looks around, desperately, but she knows there’s no help to be found. Without magic, surgery would be his only chance. 

She looks at her manaless hands, already covered in his blood, when a soft glow at her hip draws her attention. Her Soulbook. With trembling fingers, she manages to get it out and lays it on Aster’s chest. It immediately opens to the Dark Page. She stares at the words Soul Siphon burning brightly on the page. She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly through her nose. Does she dare to use it? Does she dare not to?

No, she looks at Aster. He’s getting paler, his breathing so shallow it’s barely there. There’s no time. Even Mana Aids, if she could find any, wouldn’t be enough to save him. She must try.

Keeping one hand on his chest to make sure he’s still drawing breath, she whispers the words, remembering something Tenna once told her. ‘You could shout the name of a spell at the top of your lungs, but if the desire behind it isn't firmly anchored in your soul, nothing will happen.’ Diane has never desired anything more desperately in her life. It has to work. It must.

“Soul Siphon.”