Author's Note: As I mentioned, the Prism Spirit is Rayen's Spirit. It's not
the Guardian Dragoon Spirit because it can also summon the Apocalypse
Dragoon.
Yeah, you can use the names if you want, Aya, just make sure you spell 'em right. I'll tell you something about Nieva I bet you didn't know. Her name actually is the Spanish word for snow. I needed a name, and I thought it was appropriate. Just a little twist on my part.
Oh, and about the Dragons. Nieva owns Balaeris, Ikarus is Phil's, Razeroth belongs to Shade, Kyra has Pacina, Dawn's is Kujura, Oraeus has Jineraq, and Merindel belongs to Aquaria. Does that clear things up for everyone? And yes, they all made it out of the fight OK. None of the Dragons are dead.
Chapter 64
Shade's longer blade connected against Nieva's rapier with a loud crash of metal on metal. Shade ducked, then jabbed upward with his serrated blade. The Sacred Sister jumped backwards, then lunged, weapon held high. As she thrusted down, Shade dodged to the right, knocking the Red-Eye Dragoon back with a blast of dark energy. Snarling, Nieva fired off a ball of flame, which Shade ducked beneath, but the gap was narrow enough that the Dark Dragoon could hear the fire crackling.
The bladed butt end of Phil's spear slammed hard against the hardwood haft of Dawn's berdiche. The crescent-shaped head of the polearm chopped hard, nearly decapitating the Jade Dragoon. Phil created an updraft, catching the gale in Dawn's wings and hurled the Silver Dragoon bodily into the air. Dawn threw a swarm of searing orbs of light down onto the roof of the Crystal Palace, but the Jade Dragoon soared into the air, beyond the reach of the shower of projectiles. Diving down, his wings folded neatly by his side, preparing to drive his weapon through Dawn's body, but the Silver Dragoon rolled over in midair.
Oraeus studied the battle, his eyes following every detail of the four combatants. His chin rested on his hands, which were folded on the top of his axe, the heavy steel spike of the haft resting on the crystal rooftop. Every so often, he pointed out a particularly good move or a serious blunder out to the gaggle of onlookers behind him. Next to the half-Giganto sat Aquaria, shouting out at the warriors in amusement. Sean stood, swinging his ranseur in frustration, still peeved that he wasn't allowed to participate.
The Golden Dragoon muttered, more to himself than to the crowd behind him. "They're going to need to work together. Now they're going solo, but it's not working."
The combatants appeared to have that exact revelation at the same time as Oraeus, for the two pairs began to intermingle. Nieva dodged Shade's shorter weapon, and turned her head, only to find herself on the receiving end of a vicious blow from Phil. The reeling Red-Eye Dragoon felt another staggering stroke, this time from Phil's emerald boot, and the Sacred Sister fell to the crystalline roof, her crimson armor fading from the pure physical and mental exertion.
There was some scattered applause, and Oraeus pointed out how well the two Dragoons had worked in tandem as a young Silver rushed to heal Nieva's wounds. The scales had been tipped; the odds were in favor of Phil and Shade now.
Dawn, however, was doing her part to even the playing field. The large diamond in the center of her headband let out a flash of blinding light, and both Dragoons spun awkwardly, trying to shield their eyes. Dawn saw her chance, and dove for Shade, not wishing to be in a one-on-one battle with her elemental opposite, who was also far more experienced than she. The wooden handle of her weapon first hit the Dark Dragoon's stomach, then the side of his head. Positioning herself above the helpless Shade, she thrust the flat end of her polearm directly into the center of his face. Shade felt his nose break, awashing him in burning pain, and he too fell out of action, his injuries taking their toll on his remaining energy.
The appointed medic once again scurried over to the second fallen warrior. Oraeus commended Dawn's tactics, although they were slightly less than honorable. Despite his own views on battle, Oraeus recognized the simple truth of the matter; this was war. The enemy would show no sympathy. They would not, could not, give them any sort of edge, and if that meant using underhanded tactics, then they would just have to deal with it, and berate themselves in shame after they had achieved victory.
Spear and berdiche clashed, but Phil was impatient this time. He wanted to get this over with quickly. He soared into the air, far out of reach. Dawn was nearly out of magic, Phil knew she would attempt to dodge his spell rather than cast one of her own. All of the others had been coming up with their own original spells, but this time it was his turn to show them he had his own ideas.
The spear danced through the fingers of his left hand. The weapon stopped spinning abruptly, and Phil wove it through the air in an intricate pattern, tracing a rune in the sky as the head of the spear left a shimmering green trail in its wake. Winds cascaded around him, but he used his wings as a buffer against their currents for a moment. He smirked. "God of the East Wind!"
The winds surged around the Jade Dragoon's right hand, twisting into the form of an eagle's head, which opened its beak and let out a piercing cry. He dove, his spear in his left hand, and the eagle on his right. Thrusting with his weapon to divert Dawn's path of flight, he spun around, slamming his enchanted fist between the gleaming silver wings on Dawn's back. He stood back in satisfaction as the winds around him calmed, letting gravity do his job for him. Sure enough, the sheer force of the blow, coupled with the impact of the fall caused Dawn's transformation to come to an abrupt end.
The crowd burst into enthusiastic applause, except for Sean, who gloomily thrust his weapon back into its set of straps on his back, the young orphan probably picturing himself in the limelight. Oraeus's large hands beat together, sounding like a series of thunderclaps. "Very good! I hope you all learned something."
Sean grumbled. "I wish I had learned something."
Phil gave a slight chuckle as he touched down onto the rooftop. "Get over it already, man. So the old man wouldn't let you beat us all, big deal. It's no reason to get your shorts in a knot."
Sean muttered something incoherent. Phil was undaunted. "Care to share that with the class?"
"Yeah, yeah..." The Divine Dragoon stomped off.
Phil watched him go, the smile still on his face. "I tell you, that kid has some serious growing up to do."
This time it was Dawn's turn to laugh. "Ah yes, this coming from the very epitome of maturity, who spends his spare time trying to talk to strange women and building castles out of toothpicks."
Phil stuck his tongue out at her. "Hey, those are both very constructive hobbies, thank you very much."
The Silver Dragoon laughed again as the Dragoons slowly filed back into the palace, the excitement over for today.
************************************************************************
Kyra walked through the crystal halls, searching for a private place to muse. She finally found what she was looking for, only to see it occupied by Rayen. She glared at him haughtily, and the Guardian Dragoon could not resist a slight roll of his azure eyes as he got up and headed for the exit. Kyra sat down as he left, heaving a sigh. She knew it would be coming back in a few minutes. It always did.
Kyra had no idea why it was haunting her so much simply because Rayen had picked up on it back in Ulara. Being in a Wingly city had brought it to the front of her mind again, and afterwards she had been unable to banish it from her thoughts. She had no particular desire to replay that particular memory over and over again, but it appeared that what she wanted had little to do with it. Damn, here we go again...
************************************************************************
"You sure you can handle this, rookie?"
Kyra narrowed her burgundy eyes into an indignant glare. Although she had been a part of the organization for almost a year now, that jerk still called her 'rookie'. Despite their relatively short time together, the bitter rivalry between the Wingly and John Emerson, the man who had framed Shade for the murder of his older brother, was already beginning to form.
Kyra snorted, turning from him. "Leave it to me. Just get out of the way, keep your mouth shut, and make sure not to shove the stick farther up your ass."
The man looked as though he were about to make a scathing reply, but Kyra turned from him, heading for the outer ring of trees. This was a Wingly forest, rumored to be in the possession of a Dragoon Spirit. Although this was not even near the district where Kyra had grown up (and been exiled from), being a Wingly, it automatically made her a better candidate for this mission than someone like Emerson. She approached the border of the forest with caution, knowing that there would be at least half a dozen sentries with fireballs in hand, ready to incinerate her if she made a wrong move.
She waited at the edge of the pines, and soon, a small Wingly came forth. She couldn't have been much younger than Kyra herself, who was fifteen at the time. She looked up at Kyra with the blood-red eyes that were reserved for the Wingly race, and that made her all the more conscious of her own magenta eyes, considered an anomaly in Wingly genetics. Her voice was soft. "What do you want?"
"I've heard that an ancient Dragon Spirit lies within these woods. I was wondering if we could possibly make a deal with your leaders and borrow the Spirit temporarily..."
The Wingly girl shook her head vehemently. "The Spirit? No, you can't have it! It's the ancient relic of our people, we could never give it up!"
She seized hold of Kyra's wrist. Kyra, confused by this odd gesture, tried to free her arm from the girl's grasp. She resisted, and a struggle took place. Kyra wasn't quite sure what had happened next, but she assumed her claws must have slashed the girl's throat, because the young Wingly soon stopped fighting, and stared up at her as the life ebbed from her in the form of a river of blood flowing forth from her neck.
Then, of course, all hell broke loose.
The sentries burst forth from their hiding places, hurling both fireballs and furious exclamations. However, in their anger, they missed Kyra entirely and sealed their own doom. For, now that their locations were revealed, the troops surged towards them. The Winglies fought bravely, but they were ultimately overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers. Kyra knew what would happen next; the soldiers would make their way through the forest, pillaging, looting, and burning.
She had not moved from her place when the soldiers returned, jeering and hooting from the blazing remains of the pine trees. Emerson was in the lead, his half-moon shaped axe stained with blood. He smirked at the vacant expression on her face. "Well look at the bright side. At least now we don't have to 'borrow the Spirit temporarily'," he said with a mocking sneer at her words. He held up a glimmering topaz, which pulsed with a golden light in his hand.
Great. A Wingly forest stood in ruins, its inhabitants dead or worse, and a Dragoon Spirit was in the hands of her rival. What else could have gone wrong?
But it was none of the consequences that bothered Kyra the most. It was the look on the dying Wingly's face. A mixture of sorrow, fear, and a tiny glimmer of pity. At first, Kyra had thought the pity was for her early death, but now she knew. The pity in the dead Wingly's gaze was for her. Finally, she understood why.
************************************************************************
Kyra buried her face in her hands. She wasn't a traitor to her fellow Dragoons, she was a traitor to her own race, her entire species. Now she understood why the elders had sent her into exile. Every time she came back to the Winglies, the result was always tragedy. Exile once, two forests destroyed, and the blood was all on her hands.
Rayen chose this moment to walk into the doorway. He had been halfway down the corridor when he had discovered he had left his sword behind. He saw Kyra's face in her hands, saw the tears fall. Suddenly, he decided it would be a better idea to come back for the weapon later. He took care to make as little noise as possible as he left Kyra alone with her sorrow.
By the time Kyra realized someone had been watching her, and looked up in fury, ready to send a hundred thousand volts through the intruder's body, the Guardian Dragoon was gone.
Author's Note: I am so mean to poor Kyra. Evil me. Mwaha. Yes. Okey dokey, you wanted to know what was up, and now you know. Lucky you. Yay. OK, I'm done.
Yeah, you can use the names if you want, Aya, just make sure you spell 'em right. I'll tell you something about Nieva I bet you didn't know. Her name actually is the Spanish word for snow. I needed a name, and I thought it was appropriate. Just a little twist on my part.
Oh, and about the Dragons. Nieva owns Balaeris, Ikarus is Phil's, Razeroth belongs to Shade, Kyra has Pacina, Dawn's is Kujura, Oraeus has Jineraq, and Merindel belongs to Aquaria. Does that clear things up for everyone? And yes, they all made it out of the fight OK. None of the Dragons are dead.
Chapter 64
Shade's longer blade connected against Nieva's rapier with a loud crash of metal on metal. Shade ducked, then jabbed upward with his serrated blade. The Sacred Sister jumped backwards, then lunged, weapon held high. As she thrusted down, Shade dodged to the right, knocking the Red-Eye Dragoon back with a blast of dark energy. Snarling, Nieva fired off a ball of flame, which Shade ducked beneath, but the gap was narrow enough that the Dark Dragoon could hear the fire crackling.
The bladed butt end of Phil's spear slammed hard against the hardwood haft of Dawn's berdiche. The crescent-shaped head of the polearm chopped hard, nearly decapitating the Jade Dragoon. Phil created an updraft, catching the gale in Dawn's wings and hurled the Silver Dragoon bodily into the air. Dawn threw a swarm of searing orbs of light down onto the roof of the Crystal Palace, but the Jade Dragoon soared into the air, beyond the reach of the shower of projectiles. Diving down, his wings folded neatly by his side, preparing to drive his weapon through Dawn's body, but the Silver Dragoon rolled over in midair.
Oraeus studied the battle, his eyes following every detail of the four combatants. His chin rested on his hands, which were folded on the top of his axe, the heavy steel spike of the haft resting on the crystal rooftop. Every so often, he pointed out a particularly good move or a serious blunder out to the gaggle of onlookers behind him. Next to the half-Giganto sat Aquaria, shouting out at the warriors in amusement. Sean stood, swinging his ranseur in frustration, still peeved that he wasn't allowed to participate.
The Golden Dragoon muttered, more to himself than to the crowd behind him. "They're going to need to work together. Now they're going solo, but it's not working."
The combatants appeared to have that exact revelation at the same time as Oraeus, for the two pairs began to intermingle. Nieva dodged Shade's shorter weapon, and turned her head, only to find herself on the receiving end of a vicious blow from Phil. The reeling Red-Eye Dragoon felt another staggering stroke, this time from Phil's emerald boot, and the Sacred Sister fell to the crystalline roof, her crimson armor fading from the pure physical and mental exertion.
There was some scattered applause, and Oraeus pointed out how well the two Dragoons had worked in tandem as a young Silver rushed to heal Nieva's wounds. The scales had been tipped; the odds were in favor of Phil and Shade now.
Dawn, however, was doing her part to even the playing field. The large diamond in the center of her headband let out a flash of blinding light, and both Dragoons spun awkwardly, trying to shield their eyes. Dawn saw her chance, and dove for Shade, not wishing to be in a one-on-one battle with her elemental opposite, who was also far more experienced than she. The wooden handle of her weapon first hit the Dark Dragoon's stomach, then the side of his head. Positioning herself above the helpless Shade, she thrust the flat end of her polearm directly into the center of his face. Shade felt his nose break, awashing him in burning pain, and he too fell out of action, his injuries taking their toll on his remaining energy.
The appointed medic once again scurried over to the second fallen warrior. Oraeus commended Dawn's tactics, although they were slightly less than honorable. Despite his own views on battle, Oraeus recognized the simple truth of the matter; this was war. The enemy would show no sympathy. They would not, could not, give them any sort of edge, and if that meant using underhanded tactics, then they would just have to deal with it, and berate themselves in shame after they had achieved victory.
Spear and berdiche clashed, but Phil was impatient this time. He wanted to get this over with quickly. He soared into the air, far out of reach. Dawn was nearly out of magic, Phil knew she would attempt to dodge his spell rather than cast one of her own. All of the others had been coming up with their own original spells, but this time it was his turn to show them he had his own ideas.
The spear danced through the fingers of his left hand. The weapon stopped spinning abruptly, and Phil wove it through the air in an intricate pattern, tracing a rune in the sky as the head of the spear left a shimmering green trail in its wake. Winds cascaded around him, but he used his wings as a buffer against their currents for a moment. He smirked. "God of the East Wind!"
The winds surged around the Jade Dragoon's right hand, twisting into the form of an eagle's head, which opened its beak and let out a piercing cry. He dove, his spear in his left hand, and the eagle on his right. Thrusting with his weapon to divert Dawn's path of flight, he spun around, slamming his enchanted fist between the gleaming silver wings on Dawn's back. He stood back in satisfaction as the winds around him calmed, letting gravity do his job for him. Sure enough, the sheer force of the blow, coupled with the impact of the fall caused Dawn's transformation to come to an abrupt end.
The crowd burst into enthusiastic applause, except for Sean, who gloomily thrust his weapon back into its set of straps on his back, the young orphan probably picturing himself in the limelight. Oraeus's large hands beat together, sounding like a series of thunderclaps. "Very good! I hope you all learned something."
Sean grumbled. "I wish I had learned something."
Phil gave a slight chuckle as he touched down onto the rooftop. "Get over it already, man. So the old man wouldn't let you beat us all, big deal. It's no reason to get your shorts in a knot."
Sean muttered something incoherent. Phil was undaunted. "Care to share that with the class?"
"Yeah, yeah..." The Divine Dragoon stomped off.
Phil watched him go, the smile still on his face. "I tell you, that kid has some serious growing up to do."
This time it was Dawn's turn to laugh. "Ah yes, this coming from the very epitome of maturity, who spends his spare time trying to talk to strange women and building castles out of toothpicks."
Phil stuck his tongue out at her. "Hey, those are both very constructive hobbies, thank you very much."
The Silver Dragoon laughed again as the Dragoons slowly filed back into the palace, the excitement over for today.
************************************************************************
Kyra walked through the crystal halls, searching for a private place to muse. She finally found what she was looking for, only to see it occupied by Rayen. She glared at him haughtily, and the Guardian Dragoon could not resist a slight roll of his azure eyes as he got up and headed for the exit. Kyra sat down as he left, heaving a sigh. She knew it would be coming back in a few minutes. It always did.
Kyra had no idea why it was haunting her so much simply because Rayen had picked up on it back in Ulara. Being in a Wingly city had brought it to the front of her mind again, and afterwards she had been unable to banish it from her thoughts. She had no particular desire to replay that particular memory over and over again, but it appeared that what she wanted had little to do with it. Damn, here we go again...
************************************************************************
"You sure you can handle this, rookie?"
Kyra narrowed her burgundy eyes into an indignant glare. Although she had been a part of the organization for almost a year now, that jerk still called her 'rookie'. Despite their relatively short time together, the bitter rivalry between the Wingly and John Emerson, the man who had framed Shade for the murder of his older brother, was already beginning to form.
Kyra snorted, turning from him. "Leave it to me. Just get out of the way, keep your mouth shut, and make sure not to shove the stick farther up your ass."
The man looked as though he were about to make a scathing reply, but Kyra turned from him, heading for the outer ring of trees. This was a Wingly forest, rumored to be in the possession of a Dragoon Spirit. Although this was not even near the district where Kyra had grown up (and been exiled from), being a Wingly, it automatically made her a better candidate for this mission than someone like Emerson. She approached the border of the forest with caution, knowing that there would be at least half a dozen sentries with fireballs in hand, ready to incinerate her if she made a wrong move.
She waited at the edge of the pines, and soon, a small Wingly came forth. She couldn't have been much younger than Kyra herself, who was fifteen at the time. She looked up at Kyra with the blood-red eyes that were reserved for the Wingly race, and that made her all the more conscious of her own magenta eyes, considered an anomaly in Wingly genetics. Her voice was soft. "What do you want?"
"I've heard that an ancient Dragon Spirit lies within these woods. I was wondering if we could possibly make a deal with your leaders and borrow the Spirit temporarily..."
The Wingly girl shook her head vehemently. "The Spirit? No, you can't have it! It's the ancient relic of our people, we could never give it up!"
She seized hold of Kyra's wrist. Kyra, confused by this odd gesture, tried to free her arm from the girl's grasp. She resisted, and a struggle took place. Kyra wasn't quite sure what had happened next, but she assumed her claws must have slashed the girl's throat, because the young Wingly soon stopped fighting, and stared up at her as the life ebbed from her in the form of a river of blood flowing forth from her neck.
Then, of course, all hell broke loose.
The sentries burst forth from their hiding places, hurling both fireballs and furious exclamations. However, in their anger, they missed Kyra entirely and sealed their own doom. For, now that their locations were revealed, the troops surged towards them. The Winglies fought bravely, but they were ultimately overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers. Kyra knew what would happen next; the soldiers would make their way through the forest, pillaging, looting, and burning.
She had not moved from her place when the soldiers returned, jeering and hooting from the blazing remains of the pine trees. Emerson was in the lead, his half-moon shaped axe stained with blood. He smirked at the vacant expression on her face. "Well look at the bright side. At least now we don't have to 'borrow the Spirit temporarily'," he said with a mocking sneer at her words. He held up a glimmering topaz, which pulsed with a golden light in his hand.
Great. A Wingly forest stood in ruins, its inhabitants dead or worse, and a Dragoon Spirit was in the hands of her rival. What else could have gone wrong?
But it was none of the consequences that bothered Kyra the most. It was the look on the dying Wingly's face. A mixture of sorrow, fear, and a tiny glimmer of pity. At first, Kyra had thought the pity was for her early death, but now she knew. The pity in the dead Wingly's gaze was for her. Finally, she understood why.
************************************************************************
Kyra buried her face in her hands. She wasn't a traitor to her fellow Dragoons, she was a traitor to her own race, her entire species. Now she understood why the elders had sent her into exile. Every time she came back to the Winglies, the result was always tragedy. Exile once, two forests destroyed, and the blood was all on her hands.
Rayen chose this moment to walk into the doorway. He had been halfway down the corridor when he had discovered he had left his sword behind. He saw Kyra's face in her hands, saw the tears fall. Suddenly, he decided it would be a better idea to come back for the weapon later. He took care to make as little noise as possible as he left Kyra alone with her sorrow.
By the time Kyra realized someone had been watching her, and looked up in fury, ready to send a hundred thousand volts through the intruder's body, the Guardian Dragoon was gone.
Author's Note: I am so mean to poor Kyra. Evil me. Mwaha. Yes. Okey dokey, you wanted to know what was up, and now you know. Lucky you. Yay. OK, I'm done.