Chapter 62
The dragon was grounded. It lay on its chest, roaring and snapping its jaws. Riordan, with his death, had ripped a few sizeable holes into its right wing; it would never fly again.
Where he had left off, the dwarves, the mages and the elves had taken over, and, while unable to finish the job, had weakened the beast. Aedan and his band had simply been lucky to find the dragon on its last legs but the bloody thing still gave them a run for their money.
It had sent Faren flying into a distant wall with a whip of its tail. Morrigan sat behind a pillar, ingesting a lyrium potion. In her condition, Aedan didn't want her close to the dragon. Her spells were a great offensive support and between himself and Alistair, they'd brought the dragon down to its knees.
But it was still very much alive. And that was a problem.
"Never thought I'd be coming back here so soon," Alistair said as he handed over half of the last health potion he had to Aedan. "What's the plan?"
The top of Fort Drakon was littered with corpses. Dwarves, elves and humans alike. If the dragon wasn't slain, more would be added to the tally. Aedan knew he would have to get out from behind the ruined wall they were using as cover if he wanted to end this.
"You won't like the plan," he told Alistair.
"Try me."
"I will." He smiled briefly. "But first, I just want to tell you that I'm glad it was you that survived among the Warden ranks at Ostagar. I'd rather have had you with me through all this than anyone else. You've been a great friend, a worthy comrade-in-arms, and as close as anything to a brother I could have hoped for. Thank you, Alistair."
"Oh, stop it," Alistair replied and punched his shoulder playfully. "Get sentimental after we slay a dragon."
"No, Alistair. There is no 'we', here."
Alistair was opening his mouth to say something when Aedan punched him. A quick, short left quick to the jaw. It didn't take much to knock him out. He was absolutely bloody knackered, and Aedan put him down on the floor slowly. He then looked across at Morrigan and found her watching him. He nodded to her, and, as the archdemon let loose a roar that shook the very tower, Aedan dashed out from behind the wall, sword in hand.
The sudden movement attracted the dragon's attention and it reared up to meet this challenge. Aedan sped up. He'd seen the thing chew right through plate, and he didn't think Avernus's concoction would help him survive that. While it had made him stronger and faster, Aedan still found himself running toward a dragon that had its mouth wide open.
That's it. It's me you want.
A blast of lightning shot out from behind him and entered the dragon's outstretched mouth. Immediately its eyes exploded as the shock spell made its destructive way down the dragon's throat, causing minor explosions on the way.
Aedan smiled to himself. It was always the shot you didn't see coming that did you in. A lesson well learnt.
He slowed to a walk as the great wyrm's head fell heavily on the floor, the only noticeable movement from it being the flaring of its nostrils at regular intervals.
Aedan stepped on its snout and walked up tiredly to stand between its eyes. He sighed and held the sword with both hands, tip pointed down.
He stood there a while, eyes closed, as memories of his life went sailing through his mind: a happy childhood, teenage years full of mischief, untimely maturity and raising an army in a year to defeat the Blight. It had been a good life, lived with no regrets, and, hopefully, enough to inspire more good than all the bad he'd done over the past year. That would be good enough.
Please, Maker, let this be the end.
Then he buried his family sword hilt deep into the archdemon's head.