Hello Readers. Welcome to chapter 10.

Sprinting back up towards the battlefield, Ruffnut held onto a sickening feeling that something had gone very wrong. If she knew the way Fishlegs liked to fight, there was a distinct lack of loud explosions and hammer blows. A distinct lack of battle roars and angry bellows. It was far too quiet. And being the ones who normally caused all sorts of trouble, quiet was never a good thing. They had taken Astrid back to the ship and placed her inside a lit brazier. It was a moment that shocked many of the troops, but the Scalebinders knew what they were doing. Being fireproof in their human forms certainly helped. They didn't know what was going on in regards to the apparent poison or venom that the dragon-killer employed, but Night Fury did, and he told them to keep her body warm.

They reached the battlefield to a horrific sight. The dragon killer lay slumped over, a dagger through its head, and an unmoving body next to it. Fishlegs lay there, a hole in one shoulder that they could see. "Shit!" Tuffnut swore as they ran up to him and rolled the large man over. His eyes were glazed over, but to their happiness, he was still breathing. It was the slightest breath, but enough to ensure to them that he was still alive.

Ruffnut slapped him twice. "Wake up, Fish! Wake up!" She had to guess how he had gotten the two shoulder wounds, and that guess was that he'd done it on purpose to get close to the demon. A part of her wished they had stayed, so she could have fought the demon, but she knew that they had to get Astrid to safety. Now the question begged: where was Night Fury? She glanced around and found nothing else alive in the entire area. Only blood, fluids, shattered bits of bone and organ and cobblestones. She and Tuff were the only two living things in the current vicinity.

She turned to her brother, looking down with worry at Fishlegs. "We have to do the same thing with him. Shift; it's the only way the two of us will carry him, and it will be faster back to the ship." She said. He didn't disagree with her, and within two minutes they were in the sky, their two heads driving for the ship and a still unmoving Fishlegs in their large talons. Atop the main deck, they could see the blaze of the giant brazier they had set up, and the troops surrounding it. Standing almost too close to the fire for comfort was Captain Eret, and Ruffnut was glad that she had been able to trust him with keeping anyone from messing with the fire.

The soldiers back away when they arrived over the ship, giving them plenty of space to drop to the deck. When that was done, they quickly shifted back to human form and, ignoring their nakedness from the shift, ran in two directions. Ruffnut ran and took a running jump into the brazier, the blazing fire within doing nothing to harm her. The flames actually felt quite nice as it licked against her bare flesh. She bent over I the center of the large brazier, taking Astrid's body and leaning it against the side of the metal container. They had to make room for Fishlegs, and he was a large man.

Moments later, Tuffnut appeared at the side of the brazier, three men helping him bring Fishlegs over. Ruffnut shifted to her hybrid form, a green and blue mottled scale draconian form. The two braids she kept on either side of her head grew back into the two trademark horns of her Zippleback head, and her teeth grew to long and sharps fangs. She took the large man from them and pulled him into the fire, his ripped and destroyed clothes alighting and burning away, revealing the mangled and bloody holes in his shoulders. They dripped with a terrible smelling black ooze and she was certain that it was the venom that was so destructive to them.

Once he was placed in the brazier, laying on his back, she moved Astrid to his side. If anything, being so close would keep the both of them warmer than if they were separated in the large brazier. She jumped out to find that Tuffnut had sent another soldier to get them spare sets of clothes. When he offered them to her, respectfully averting his eyes, she laughed. "Just give me a cloak. I may need to jump back in, and I'm not wasting our supplies." He turned and ran off when Tuffnut agreed with her assessment.

"What happened up there?" Tuffnut asked, staring into the brazier with concern in his eyes.

"Astrid was caught off guard by that thing," Ruffnut answered. "Fishlegs…he killed it, but at the cost of those wounds."

Tuffnut hummed in agreement. "What even was that? I know Night Fury called it a dragon-killer, but seriously, what was it?"

A young female soldier stepped forward with a raised hand. Ruffnut cocked an eyebrow at her. "You uh…you have a question?" She asked with a bare amount of amusement. There were plenty of young soldiers with them who had not spent much time among the Scalebinders, and probably had no idea how to interact with them.

She nodded. "Yes, I…um…well…"

"Spit it out," Tuffnut called over to her.

She nodded quickly, swallowing nervously. Ruffnut noted how the other soldiers around her seemed to step back as she had become the focus of the Scalebinders attention. "I spent many years studying to be admitted to Mystic Spire…an-"

"You wanted to be a sorceress?" Ruffnut asked with a minute amount of surprise. "How did you end up at Helheim?"

The woman, or girl really, she looked quite young, grimaced. "I took the tests to enter Mystic Spire, but failed…"

Captain Eret spoke up from where he stood, near the brazier. "The punishment for failing those tests is immediate enlistment at Helheim."

Tuffnut scoffed from where he sat. "Punishment? That makes no sense. How is that a punishment?"

The girl spoke again. There was a detectable shake in her voice. "The magic users of Mystic Spire are a bit…arrogant. To them, trying to access their order is the same as trying to escape the harder life of a foot soldier. If you fail their tests…this is what you get." She was clearly still upset about it all. Ruffnut assumed that she was actually extremely new to the Helheim scene.

"You can do magic?" She asked pointedly. "What's your name?"

"Yes, I can. And my name is Atali Maidenwing." At those words, many of the soldiers exclaimed in surprise, and even Captain Eret voiced his surprise. Ruffnut glanced around with curiosity and found that even more space had been put between the soldiers and Atali. Tuffnut seemed to notice it as well.

"Alright, what's the deal?" He demanded.

"The Maidenwing clan have been the Matriarchs of Mystic Spire for eight hundred years." Captain Eret summarized for them. He seemed unconcerned with the new information.

Understanding dawned on Ruffnut as to why Atali was so upset about all of this. "Your entire family runs the Spire…and you couldn't even get in." If she had any semblance of the emotion of shame, she would have hated how the words came out. However, Ruffnut and her twin had always believed that it was more effective to drive straight to the source of anything, regardless of others feelings. It was more efficient that way.

"Yes," Atali said. "My grandmother was quite…cruel with her dismissal of me. My sisters were all admitted…but I was not."

"How many sisters?"

"Four."

Ruffnut looked over at quartermaster for the whole ship. "Is she assigned to a squad?"

The man looked shocked that she actually addressed him and quickly shook his head. "No, Scalebinder. Maidenwing has yet to pass any assessments for being a soldier…"

Ruffnut's face bloomed to an angry shade of bloodshot red. "That is because she is a sorceress you damn fool! She isn't a fucking foot soldier!" She snarled. When the man cringed, she didn't end her tirade. "I want her added to my squad immediately."

"Scalebinder, she hasn't been deemed wo-"

In an instant, Ruffnut had crossed the distance between herself and the quartermaster, her face mere inches from his, her body having shifted to her draconian hybrid form. "I dare you to finish that sentence." She said coldly, deadly intent ringing through her reptilian voice. "Add her to my squad immediately. I will handle her from now on." She growled. The quartermaster nodded quickly and ran off, where Ruffnut hoped he was running to go and update the troop listings. She turned her narrowed eyes on Atali.

"What sort of magic can you perform?"

The young woman swallowed audibly. "My point, Scalebind-"

"Call me Ruffnut."

She swallowed again. "O-ok…Ruffnut…you said that you fought a dragon-killer demon?"

XXX

Spells flew past him like raindrops, the necromancer having no issue with peppering Night Fury with spells meant to slow him down. Nothing worked as well as the evil man ha hoped though. Night Fury was closing in on him, and it was about time. The man has used some of his black, terrible magic to enchant his body. He moved as fast as the wind through the trees, managing to outpace Night Fury by enough that he could avoid the deadly blades in the cloaked man's hands.

He had chased this mage since the port town, and he was immensely frustrated by the ability of this terror to evade him. Much of their powers rely on living creatures, and thus their abilities are far expanded in Dragonoa, a place of thriving life. This kill would have been quite easy in the dead land that is Blackreach, as there was little that he could draw power from. If only that was the case here.

As he dodged yet another bolt of black magic, Night Fury said a silent prayer for Fishlegs and Astrid. Dragonkiller demons were exactly as their name suggests. Deadly to dragons. They were completely adapted to killing the giant reptiles, and unfortunately, scalebinders are half dragon. It all came together in one, terrifying conclusion that he had come to: someone was trying to kill the scalebinders specifically. This was no general attack against Dragonoa. This blood warlock had summoned a dragon-killer at that specific location for a specific purpose.

Summoning using blood magic was a tricky business, mainly because of two major factors: it required large amounts of energy, and that energy had to come from living things. Unfortunately for him, Dragonoa was plentiful in both of those categories. It made this much harder to do, and he knew that he had to hurry. The flames that he hoped Ruffnut and Tuffnut placed Astrid within would only keep the poison at bay. Their trip was about to take a much, much longer detour.

Finally, a breakthrough! The trees suddenly broke to an open field. Obviously a farm of some sort, and he gleefully noted that the necromancer had made a critical error; the amount of life in the middle of the field was drastically lower than under giant trees. He came to a stop near the man, remaining fully conscious that blood warlocks enjoyed traps. They never killed outright. It was always their goal to keep a target alive, so they could siphon off life energy.

"Out of places to run, kro," He yelled. The warlock turned putrid eyes, a sickly green shade, on Night Fury. His flesh was rotted and yellow, a clear sign of the corruption his unnatural magic caused.

"You will never kill me here, creature." His voice slid from his lips like guts from an open wound, his mouth gurgling out red colored slime as he spoke. Truly, blood warlocks were a terrible thing. Night Fury focused carefully on the land around the warlock, noting that the small plants, sitting in their rows, were beginning to wilt. Life energy was being siphoned from them as he stood, but it would not be enough. He would see this warlock die before another spell left his body. However, he had to get information.

"Who sent you here, warlock?" He called.

The man started to cackle, bile spilling from his mouth as he did. "Fool! Even your pathetic little clan couldn't halt the inevitable!" His laughter overtook him, and he doubled over as if in pain as he expressed his sick joy. "Oh, how many had to be sacrificed…but the doorway opened! For the first time in two millennia, the doorway to Abyssus opened!"

Night Fury, as confident as any who walked on this plane of existence, felt his blood go cold. Abyssus, the most nightmarish of demon realms, had been tapped? It could mean…many things. All of them were possibilities for the end of Terra. The warlock appeared to notice Night Fury's sudden silence as he breathed in raggedly. "An Abyssal walks this plane. It will destroy Dragonoa!"

He continued, even as he rose to stand straight up once more. Night Fury was still frozen by the revelations of before. "This land will burn. These pathetic people will become nothing except livestock for the summoning of demons. The Sanguine Cloister will rule the world once more! And…I will be there when the Abyssal shatters what is left of your kind!" He screamed the last words and lifted both his hands to the sky. "I, Johann the Betrayer, will see you all burn! Starting with you!" Clasped in one of his hands was a vial that Night Fury had seen before.

Inside, a crystal the same color as dark blood thrummed with the souls of living beings. He guessed that they were the souls of the inhabitants of Utensfjord. In a flash, the warlock brought his hands together, shattering the vial and the crystal within between them. A cloud of swirling energy appeared around him, coalescing into an ethereal form. The ethereal warrior only glared for a moment before falling to the ground and dissipating.

Night Fury stood cautious, his eye darting around his surroundings. He had seen this summoning before. The shade that was summoned would appear anywhere, having gathered the life energy from the earth to assume physical form. With a loud rumble and a spray of dirt, rock, and roots, the shade burst from the earth, the two double-bladed axes in its hands whirling a dance of death. He sprung quickly to action, batting away the first horizontal strike and prancing away, his eyes planted on the ghostly orbs of his new, yet long-dead enemy.

Behind the reanimated warrior, Johann glared at him with a barely concealed disgust and hatred. "You work with those pathetic dragon hybrids. Now, battle one of their greatest! Killed by me, his soul forever in servitude to me!" Without another word, he turned and walked off towards the forests at the other end of the field. Night Fury sprang forward, intent on killing the necromancer quickly and ending this battle. The warrior standing between them jumped to action, a double ax slash forcing Night Fury to abandon his move towards the necromancer.

He quickly brought his swords up, blocking the blow but being pushed back slightly from the force. Fighting those creatures brought back from the dead was always harder than fighting those who are alive. The undeath condition means that those creatures do not feel the strain of muscles or limbs. They will continue to fight, despite any damage they might receive. As long as it does not kill them, any blow might as well be child's play.

Something that he was reminded of at this moment as he traded blows with the ghost. Johann had said that he was battling one of their greatest…in reference to the scalebinders…and this ghost had clear signs of scales on his face. They were a harsh orange color, crossing over his face in a bright pattern of waves. He did not know who this warrior might be, but he was confident in one thing. This ghost could kill him. He was no normal reanimation.

Even as fast as he was, Night Fury found that landing a strike against this enemy would be difficult. The axes sang as they carved through the air towards him, and even Night Fury's speed and strength were tested. He spun, using his billowing cloak as a disguise for his strikes, hoping that the ghost would be confused by all the movement to be able to foresee a strike. When his spin neared its final stage, he struck out with his right blade, aiming for the ghost's shoulder. With his following left slash, he ducked, aiming low for the knee.

To his frustration, the ghost did the unexpected. It stepped into his upper strike, allowing his blade to sink deeply into its shoulder, blocking the low strike with the haft of his left ax. His right ax handle was jammed into Night Fury's chest, the hard wooden shaft pushing all the air out of his body. He quickly recovered and pushed away from the ghost, landing two slashes across the arm and wrist as he created some distance.

The distance he sought created, he circled slowly, his eyes carefully analyzing the stance and demeanor of the warrior before him. It was hard to do, mostly because the ghost showed nearly no signs of earthly effect. He didn't limp. His left arm and wrist though cut deeply showed no effects. The hand still gripped the war ax with the same amount of strength as before. Weight changes didn't appear to matter, mainly because this beast did not feel tired. Did not feel pain. The only foreseeable way to defeat it would be to render it unable to fight.

Which gave him a goal that he could now attain. He zeroed in on his first target, which would be the legs. If he could remove its ability to walk, then he could easily outmaneuver the ghost. This line of reasoning also included the caveat that this ghost needed legs to walk at all. For all he knew, as soon as he cut them off, his enemy would begin floating. Although the many decades he had spent walking this earth taught him many things, fighting such creatures as this was not one of them.

He drove in towards his foe, coming in low to set up his strikes. The ghost dipped, ready to defend, the dual axes poised to block and attack simultaneously. Night Fury rose up high, leaping towards the ghost in a large feint, hoping that the enemy would rise to block, giving him enough of an opening to slice the legs. If his thoughts were right, then he would have to cleanly remove one of the limbs. He couldn't depend on the idea that maybe the ghost will be affected by a normal tendon cut. Thus far, he had seen no evidence that his previously scored wounds were affecting it at all.

The Shade pressed his jump, swinging an ax at the bottom of his feet. Night Fury had a moment to celebrate his assumption about the ghostly warrior not knowing of firm battle strategy, instead relying more on the endless strength and unfeeling nerves than trickery and finesse. With a quick tuck and turn, Night Fury lifted his feet beyond the strike and landed, blades swinging, behind the shade. With the resistance both his swings felt, he knew he'd struck flesh.

And what a clean strike it was. One leg was entirely removed, while another was held on by a small sliver of skin and muscle. With an otherworldly grunt, the shade fell to the grass of the field, and Night Fury tasted his victory like a sweet wine. Watching the creature struggle to turn, using the axes in an attempt to bring his body around, struck a tinge of sorrow in Night Fury. According to the warlock, Johann, this man was once a great warrior. To see him reduced to such a state was…sad.

"Wo Los Hi, hokzii?"(1) He asked, determined to discover who this was.

The shade looked up at him and, maybe realizing that the fight was lost, stopped his struggle. "Ragnar do Sahqo Vrii. Al zey, tol zu'u aal siiv drem, kruziik gein."(2)

Night Fury did not react to the use of the old language. The one he spoke. Johann, the warlock, had said that this man was once a mighty scalebinder. That could mean that he was ancient, and the old binders spoke the old tongue. In the moment, all the rest of the world fell away for him. Only the truest of beings spoke the old tongue. Spoke the language of the creators of the world. He nodded as a show of respect to the shade. The creature did not say any more, but turned his back once again, straightening his back and holding his head proudly.

Night Fury put one blade back in its sheath and held one with both hands. The sacrificial strike, the honorable, shining ending that he would bring to this warrior demanded he use one blade. He turned his body, squaring his feet and drawing the blade back. "Praan vahk, kendov."(3) He said in farewell. With a hard turn of his hips and a pivot of the ankle, he brought the single blade around in a hard cut. The head of the shade came off cleanly, leaving only a cold, bloodless stump. Only a single breath passed before an ethereal vapor, looking like clean, transparent smoke, rose from the stump.

It hung in the air for only another second before dissipating. Night Fury stepped back as the body of the shade melted away into the ground. A noxious smell rose from the dirt as the grass in it died before his eyes. Horrible magic was the only thing that could possibly create something so unnatural that it's very presence killed living things. He wondered for a moment why, at the very end, the shade had those moments of freedom. In his slightly limited experience, trapped souls were forever slaves to their masters.

Maybe the old warrior still had some will left over.

He thought for a moment about going after the warlock but thought better of it. He was gone, no doubt hidden away in some cave or hole until the danger had passed. Night Fury turned away, his eyes set on the port where his key to victory lay. He needed the Scalebinders. The Night Council needed the Scalebinders. He would deliver them.

Sorry it has been so long since I have updated. Life.

Below are the translations for the dovahzul in this chapter. I have decided to use a type of in-text citation to make sure that you guys know what is what.

Who are you, spirit? (1)

Ragnar of Red Scales. Destroy me, that I may find peace, ancient one. (2)

Rest easy, warrior (3)