Healer, Killer

by Amanda Swiftgold

Completely revised and UPDATED as of 2/20/14! Chapter Fifteen: The Dragoons attack Mayfil, but they find both devils and shadows of the past standing in their way.

10. Chapter Ten

HEALER, KILLER
By Amanda Swiftgold

BOOK ONE: DRAGOON SPIRITS GATHER

Chapter Ten

The long column of soldiers stretched out across the field of white, trampling through the layers of both soft new and old crusty snow as they headed southeast to Fort Magrad. Waving standards and flapping banners of white and orange flew above them in the clear morning light, the sun glaring brightly off the ground. At the head of the column the seven Dragoons marched, flanking the figure on horseback that was leading the way.

Diaz had refused to ride in a sledge on the way to the fortress, but he was still weak from the poisoning he'd suffered, and he'd only had two full days to recover. However, he sat stubbornly upright in his saddle, his heavy dress armor in the supply sled and a thick fur cloak around him being two of the few concessions he'd made to being ill.

This didn't keep the Golden Dragoon from staying nearby, prepared to steady him if it was required. Matthi too kept pace on the other side, needed more here than in Vellweb now that he had relayed the news of their departure on to Lord General Tibero. The Mininto bodyguard, walking with some effort through the drifts, gave his lord worried looks when he thought no one would see. Diaz's face was very pale beneath his curly dark beard, the skin around his eyes still blackened as if he'd been punched. The loss of the child had hit him hard as well, though he only spoke of being glad that his wife had come through all right.

Aside from that, the rest of the march progressed with a vaguely spirited air, an anticipation that something important, life-changing, was going to happen very soon. Damia, slogging her way through the snow as she pushed to keep up, kept pressing her hand against her stomach or to her heart as if in response to the feeling.

"Butterflies?" Belzac asked her, glancing down, and she nodded emphatically, though not replying aloud.

Damia hadn't been saying much anyway; her presence in the convoy had been met by laughter and teasing from the soldiers until a word from Diaz stopped them. Even so, they obviously had no idea why a small half-breed girl was marching with them, and would probably remain derisive until they saw the power she could command.

There wasn't much talking at all among the Dragoons, actually, most of them remaining subdued and drained after the recent events. It normally took two days to travel on foot between Vellweb and Fort Magrad, however, and with such a large group, pulling sleds of equipment and supplies, this trip would take even longer than that. It was doubtful that everyone could remain silent for that long, even if they'd wanted to.

Belzac, for his part, felt almost cheerful, the excitement in the air infecting him with its energy. The sooner they got to the fortress, the sooner they could declare war on the Winglies, and then he could make sure that the Humans - that the children - would be safe. There's no point in dwelling on bad things, he told himself, his steps still light and effortless. If only it was possible for everyone to feel that way.

'Look toward the future now.' That was what Charle had said to them before she'd gone ahead to transport herself back to Ulara, her blessing given to the downfall of her kin. And, as much as he could, he was going to do just that. The Wingly had taken Fara's body with her in order to diplomatically return it to her family and attempt to lessen the chance of Flanvel immediately attacking Vellweb; he hoped she would be successful in that as well.

They had traveled for the best part of the day, stopping only for a large, revitalizing midday meal, and it was late afternoon when the column's routine march ground to a sudden halt. Most creatures were smarter than to attack a huge group of people, but there were always exceptions, and one seemed to be on its way now.

On the crest of a hill in front of them a strange shape appeared, moving jerkily toward the company. With the sun's passage overhead, it was now easier to see what was coming slowly at them, though the odd creature was not any easier to recognize.

Matthi, however, knew what it was. He straightened with a gasp when he saw it, his dark eyes narrowing as his hand flew back over his shoulder to the hilt of his greatsword. The thing moving down the ridge had a thick central torso and three rotating arms, at the ends of which were solid metal balls bigger than a Human man's head. Its legs and feet were shaped like a Human's, and it rocked back and forth as it moved in order to keep balanced.

It set itself down into the snow a good distance away from the line of people, its arms rotating occasionally as if it was scrutinizing them. There was a silent pause as they looked at it, waiting for it to make a move.

"My lord," one of the captains asked just behind Diaz, "should we continue past it?"

He frowned, finally nodding. "It does not seem to be harmful-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, a thick silver tube extended itself from the machine's back, raising itself over to settle on the flat top part of its torso. A second later, a ball of sparkling energy shot from the barrel, arching upward and down into the midst of the column.

Soldiers scattered to avoid the blast, diving to the sides, and Diaz clutched the reins as his horse reared back, spooked by the noise and the spray of snow it had sent up. However, he managed to stay in the saddle and started trying to calm his mount down. Before the drifting flurry even cleared, there came a metallic ring, the sound of a weapon being unsheathed.

A streak of black and one of indigo were suddenly tearing toward the creature, more snow flying in their wake as Kanzas and Rose ran up the small hill's crest, cloaks whipping behind them. They gave each other glares as they went, holding their weapons steady as the rest of the people behind them stared after in shock.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped at him, moving to the left as they got near.

Going the other way, he retorted, "What does it look like, Rose? Destroying this thing!"

She made a scoffing noise. "You don't even know what it is!"

"Do you really think I care?" he called back, approaching the machine and raising his hands as it rocked itself up on its strange legs. The claw the Violet Dragoon wore was a new one he'd had made in Vellweb; one large curving blade was attached to the outside of a supple armored leather glove, leaving him free to flex his fingers and still keep hold of it.

However, as the machine-thing started to retract its barrel so it would be able to spin the weighted balls of its arms, he kept his hands back, jumping to plant one foot on its chest and kick up at the small dome-like head with the other. It reared, its arms jerking wildly, and Rose from behind it twisted inward, driving the point of her sword into the joint at its 'waist'. She wrenched it hard sideways, severing thin tubing inside the thing.

Kanzas landed from his flip into a crouch, waiting only a moment before leaping forward and dragging the point of his claw through the metal carapace; it tore easily before the blade wedged into something inside it too hard to cut. He raised his other arm, wincing as the creature's spinning limb smacked hard against his armguard.

It stopped the whirling heavy spheres, though he had to struggle to keep it from moving, and with a look of concentration Rose whipped her slender blade upward and down again from above, driving it deep into the whirring machinery. They both stepped back, yanking their weapons from the rust-orange shell, and watched silently as it collapsed in on itself with a clatter.

Finally, giving him a suspicious look, the woman murmured, "What are you after, Kanzas?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but a moment later Diaz arrived next to them, bringing his horse to a halt a short distance away from the pile of metal, and he closed it again with a snap.

"Impressive," their ruler said slowly, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

"My lord," Kanzas asked, turning to him suddenly, "is everyone safe?" He ignored the narrowing of Rose's eyes, forcing himself not to snicker. That's right, wonder what I'm up to, Rose. Always, always wonder…

If Diaz noticed anything was amiss, he didn't show it, nodding as he leaned forward over the long-eared animal's head to peer at the remains of the machine. "Yes, it seems we were all just startled. What is this thing?"

"I don't know, Lord Diaz," Rose said, her face hardening angrily when she heard Kanzas badly restrain a snort of laughter. Straightening her shoulders and sheathing her sword, she went on, "The important thing is-"

The sound of footsteps interrupted her, and Matthi staggered up to them, bending momentarily to catch his breath. The small guard had trouble making his way through the snow, which drifted in places nearly to his chest, and his face had gone almost as pink as his hair. "Better…get back from it," he panted, heaving his sword up and holding it in front of him as he stared at the destroyed creature.

"You're a little late," Kanzas started to inform him, but then suddenly he too twisted toward the heap of scrap, raising an eyebrow as it began making beeping noises, the three arms shifting and the feet twitching slightly. "What the hell?"

Rose shook her head, frowning. "I thought we destroyed it. How can it be moving?"

"Matthi?" Diaz queried, looking down at the Mininto. "What do you know about this?"

Aiming the point of his blade at the creature, he sighed, answering, "It's what we call borynk, my lord - Humans say 'Mininto mining machine'. This one must have gone rogue, gotten away from its mine. If we leave it here, it will repair itself and follow us again."

"Yeah," Kanzas bit off sourly, "and how can some machine do that, anyway?"

The ruler of Gloriano nodded, backing his horse away another few steps. "Then you know what you must do, Matthi."

"I know," he responded, shifting the gold and blue hilt of his sword in his small gloved hands. "I just really don't want to."

Crossing her arms, Rose demanded irritably, but politely, "My lord, what are you talking about?"

"We made these machines," the Mininto put in evenly, "my people made them to help those slaves forced to labor in the mines. They can work tirelessly in dangerous places, and fumes and rock dust can't hurt them. They can even fix themselves, but in order to do that we had to give them…give them self-awareness."

"Mininto magic can do that?" the dark-haired woman breathed.

Kanzas snorted derisively. "Oh, and that's real kind of you."

"Don't," Matthi spat, his brows knitted into an uncharacteristic scowl. "Yes, we can do it - and would you rather real living beings lost their lives working for the Winglies? It's just enough magic to make them like…smart machines." He poked at the thing with his sword, distinctly unhappy, and bowed his head, taking a deep breath. "This doesn't usually happen, and now I have to take care of it, so just let me do it, okay? My lord, sir and lady - would you please stand away?"

Silently, Diaz turned the horse, moving back toward the waiting column of soldiers. More slowly, Rose and Kanzas followed him, though they stopped halfway to turn back and stare, temporarily united in their curiosity.

The Mininto stood frozen in front of the heap of trembling metal for a moment before straightening up and resting the long blade of his sword on his black- and green-armored shoulder. Slowly, he extended his other hand, fingers splayed wide. As he let out a resigned sigh, a pale yellow mist began to swirl in front of his palm, growing brighter as it expanded.

What's he doing? Kanzas thought, his eyes wide as he felt something pulling inside his chest, half-reminding him of the feel of magic right before it hit, but nothing came-

And then, just as suddenly, the light stopped growing, and Matthi bent forward, touching his glowing hand to the miner's small dome. The glow disappeared like a candle going out, turning the pain into a sucking feeling of nothingness.

Rose gasped, staggering slightly, and caught hold of Kanzas' shoulder to keep upright, though a moment later she let go as if burned by the brief touch. "I…felt that," she murmured vacantly, folding her arms in front of her almost protectively. "Like my…my soul was draining away…"

"So why didn't you stand back?" Matthi demanded, his voice strained and shaking as he suddenly swung his sword from his shoulder, letting it fall from his hand into the snow next to his feet.

She couldn't answer him, her eyes flicking toward the ground. Kanzas only growled softly at the Mininto's bowed figure before turning to stalk back toward the column, the woman following a few moments later.

Looking up as they came near, Shirley stood from where she'd been kneeling to help a guard who'd been cut by a flying piece of rock that had been hidden in the snow. "Kanzas, why did you…?" she asked as she approached him, reaching out to grab his arm as he went by.

Tilting back his head, he looked at the red-haired woman and smiled. "Spirit needed energy," he told her with an easy shrug. It hadn't needed very much, though, thanks to his fight with Shynn two days ago. "It might as well be ready if Diaz is gonna want us to show off later."

"Oh…that's right," she responded, letting go of his arm and frowning as she unconsciously reached for the new bow she carried on her back. She'd used up her own store of energy in the arena, so she'd have to find something living to attack as well. Although she hated the requirement, as long as it was hunting, killing for necessary food, it wasn't so bad. "But," Shirley went on, confused, "that creature, wasn't it just a machine?"

"Yeah, that's a funny thing," he answered quietly, turning his head to look back up on the ridge, where Matthi still stood crumpled as if in mourning. "It was a machine, but it had a spirit anyway…"

---

The convoy had finally reached Magrad the night of the third day of travel, and the next morning dawned bright and clear, sun sparkling on the many enduring drifts of snow around the fort. Thousands of encampments dotted the snowfields surrounding the spike-domed walls, fires burning brightly in their pale surroundings. At least ten thousand men, and probably more, had been gathered stealthily under Diaz's flag, but after today Humans would no longer need to hide their strength from the Winglies' eyes - nor would they be able to.

Most of the soldiers and warriors were up with the first sunlight, making preparations for the gathering, and thanks to the noise very few of the rest were still asleep, either. All across Fort Magrad, people moved purposefully like insects in a hive, filled with suspense and anticipation.

However, there was nothing to be felt but fear and frustration for the newest and youngest Dragoon. Damia stood in one small room of the fort's training hall, barely holding onto her new niello-engraved hammer with one hand, her head bowed to hide her face from the man standing across from her. "Please, Belzac," she forced out, her voice shaking. "There's g-gotta be another way!"

"I'm sorry," he answered with a sigh, "but all the Dragoon Spirits work like this. You have to be able to transform for the ceremonial, Damia."

"Why?" she demanded loudly before biting down hard on her lip to keep it from trembling. He didn't even have to reply before she went on, "I know…I know…but can't I just find something…?"

Belzac shook his head. "There are too many people here now," he answered gently. "There won't be any creatures nearby."

He watched with vague sadness as the girl struggled silently, trying to draw herself up straight and square her shoulders. She had not been prepared to become a Dragoon like he and the others were. She hadn't known five days ago that she would be here now, would be forced to fight. Once again, Belzac had to wonder about the intent of the deity who had woven their fates.

"I can't do it!" she finally cried out, sliding down to her knees, the dark fabric of her new leggings scratching along the rough mats covering the floor. She slammed the hammer down onto the mats angrily, breathing hard as she fought to control herself.

"I can wait," the large man told her quietly, remaining standing in place across from her.

"This is so unfair," Damia protested, adjusting her grip on the hammer's handle over and over again, her teal hair falling down over her shoulders, waving around her back. "He's laughing at me, too! Just like everyone else."

Belzac frowned, tilting his head to the side. If anyone else is here, they'll regret it. "Who is?" he asked curiously.

"The Dragon," the half-mermaid muttered back, pulling the spirit from where it was pinned to the collar of her white and blue tunic and lifting it up toward him without raising her head.

He leaned down to peer into it, seeing nothing strange. "Why would he laugh? The Blue Sea Dragon chose you," Belzac told her sternly, straightening again. "He apparently made that very clear."

She shuddered visibly at the memory of falling from the tower circle. Almost absently, she pinned the small orb back through her button loop before getting back up to her feet. Damia shifted the weight of the engraved steel weapon she held in her small hands. "M'sorry, Belzac," she sobbed, barely audible.

"There is no need," he whispered back, spreading his hands.

Gritting her teeth, Damia let out an angered, pained cry as she lunged forward, the hammer whirling in an arc of silver before connecting hard with Belzac's forearm. Her tears shone on her pale cheeks as she spun around, hitting upward in a glancing blow to his chest; he shifted his weight to take it without stumbling, tensed against the pain.

Though she couldn't put much force into her strikes, they certainly did more than sting. But he stood there and waited, letting her hit him until her orb had collected enough of his spirit energy and she could transform.

"That's awful!" she gasped out as she stood back, raising her hand toward the spirit before suddenly hurling the hammer across the room. It crashed into the wall and fell with a hard clunk to the floor as the Dragoon screamed, "I felt it drawing out your life! I hate it! I hate it!"

"I'm all right, Damia," he tried to reassure her, feeling only a little bruised, but she brushed off his words, shaking her head hard. The half-Giganto frowned to himself; he had not been happy when he'd found that the twelve-year-old was being forced to fight alongside them, but there was nothing they could do about it.

"Why do the Dragons make us do this?" she demanded, her face flushed, the small scatter of blue-violet scales under her eye bright against her skin. "I wanted to help you and Lord Diaz and everyone, but this - we're fighting the Winglies to help the Dragons and everyone else too, so why do we have to hurt people to do it?"

Belzac shrugged, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder and sighing as she ducked away, her arms wrapped around herself. "The Dragoon Spirit needs energy to work - there's just no other way."

Sucking in a deep breath as if to shout once more, she finally just covered her face in her hands briefly. "Thank you," she breathed, "and I'm sorry," before turning and running from the room, the door swinging open wildly in her wake.

He crossed his arms and turned in place to watch her go, sadness written across his face. No, he thought at her, I'm sorry, Damia. I'm the one who should be sorry.

---

Metal scraped along the edge of a whetstone, the sound scratching rhythmically against his eardrums as he stood waiting outside the training hall. Sighing, Kanzas leaned back against the retaining wall that lined the path to the door and tipped his head back far enough to rest it on the top of the stones, his fingers laced behind his neck. Sitting on top of the wall next to him, Syuveil continued honing the blade of his spear, the morning light glistening off its shining, sharp point.

The Dragoon stared up at the sky, listening to the commotion going on around them. The much-smaller fortress sounded like Vellweb today, a noise he still hadn't quite gotten used to. If I was home again, Kanzas thought, there'd be the river and the wind and not a lot else. And there damn well wouldn't be that annoying grating- "It's only not sharp enough yet if you're trying to make it into a needle," he griped, not bothering to turn his head.

"Oh, I didn't mean to," Syuveil said immediately, lowering the whetstone and leaning forward. Though his brown hair would have fallen in his eyes before, the singed part had since been cut away, leaving him with just a ragged fringe on his forehead. "I guess I wasn't paying attention."

"Not much to pay attention to," he responded, shrugging a little. It was not a comment that required an answer, and the younger man remained silent, fiddling with the cuff of his gray-green sleeve and staring down at the ground.

Two of the voices not far away briefly became clearer to his ears, and Kanzas rolled his eyes at the sound of Zieg and Rose's laughter mingling with the clash of metal on metal as they sparred in the training hall's yard beyond the wall. A war was going to begin today, yet they could still joke together as if they were sure they weren't going to meet a horrible, premature end.

What was he doing here, anyway? He knew what Wingly magic could do to Humans, especially those who hadn't built up a tolerance to it like he'd been forced to. There were tens of thousands of men gathered in and encamped around Magrad, and how many of those were going to survive blasts of fire, pillars of falling rock, or icicles piercing to the heart? He knew what was going to happen - so why in the world was he still here?

Because he'd made a deal, he realized, thinking of Shirley. Besides, if he left, how could he do what he'd told her he would? She needed him, though she wouldn't admit it, and he could see inside her something as cold and fierce and beautiful as a falling star. All he had to do was just tear it free.

Oh, but there was going to be such a lot of death…

"Wait - are you…Kanzas, is that right? Didn't ever think I'd see you around here."

The sound of the oddly familiar voice disturbed his thoughts, and Kanzas jerked upright again, somewhat startled, before spinning to face its owner. A rather tall man with short, tousled sandy hair and hazel eyes stood before him, clad in layers of thin clothing and with a spear strapped to his back. "Yeah," he began suspiciously, brow furrowed as he tried to remember where he'd seen him before, "and who are you?"

He blinked, as if surprised, and then chuckled, shaking his head. "My name's Donar," he announced. "I met you in Kadessa." As Syuveil jumped down from the wall, he looked over at him and gave a nod, which the Jade Dragoon returned upon straightening up again.

Kadessa? Kanzas thought back to the arena, trying to place the name and the face. There'd been some idiot who'd come up to him when he'd been trying to free Taranis…the leader of the gladiators? "Ah, I remember now," he said disinterestedly, scratching briefly at his beard. "I guess you weren't killed after all."

"Yeah, well, being hit by a chain's not gonna kill me," he laughed, raising a hand to poke at his chest. "Still got a welt from where the damn thing hit, though. It knocked the wind out of me; I'm surprised I wasn't killed anyway by something else." Crossing his arms, Donar angled his head and went on, "What I could never figure was why you were trying to free that Dragon in the first place-"

"Because he's my Dragon. The Violet Electric Dragon, Taranis," he answered strongly. Though he was about to go on, he heard Syuveil clear his throat, and glanced over at him. The warning look was unmistakable, and he sighed instead in annoyance, turning his eyes back to Donar.

He ducked his head as if to hide his smile. "Your Dragon, hm? But there's something you can't say. Fair enough, I won't snoop. Though it does answer me how you got all the way here from Kadessa, right?" He looked back up again and gazed around at Magrad's layers of tiered walks and buildings, watching the people bustling for a moment. "I didn't know there were so many free Humans left in the world," Donar murmured thoughtfully.

He and Syuveil were supposed to wait here for the others to arrive, but this was getting really annoying. Kanzas was quite tempted to just brush Donar off anyway and go. After all, it wasn't like he was going to miss that ceremony, not when everyone within a mile was going to try to see it. And then what he'd just said struck him; they'd flown, obviously, but how could a normal man get here in a week? "Yeah, but how'd you get all the way here?"

"Well, that's a bit of a story," the clansman began, brightening a bit. "When I woke up, I'd been thrown in a heap with the rest of the bodies. They were being picked over by scavengers before the Winglies…did whatever they were gonna do, burn them, send them to the surface, I don't know. Not that we had much to take, as you'd recall. Two of them - well, they weren't the usual Human slaves, I could tell that much. Seemed like they weren't rag-picking, but actually looking for someone in particular." Donar shook his head. "They found me, though, and took me to this huge godsforsaken mansion to heal up a bit, got me something to wear. After a day or two their Wingly mistress turned up, and I thought I'd be killed for sure, but she must've been one of those, what do you call 'em, 'moderates'? She must've felt sorry for me. She put me on a flying merchant ship that dropped me off on its way to Zenebatos. Now that's the way to travel, let me tell you!"

Sounds like that Frahma woman, the Dragoon mused. He gave a glance at Syuveil, wondering if he had the same idea, but the other man was staring across the pathway, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

"Might've gotten lost in all this snow, normally, but there's so many people coming here, I found some right off and came along. I guess I have some luck, still," Donar finished with a dismissive wave, and then his voice went soft. "Or was it fate, I wonder?"

Kanzas narrowed his eyes a bit, otherwise making himself ignore that. "So, now that you've come all this way, you're going to fight again?"

He shrugged. "Of course. Not got much else I can do. Actually, turns out that since I'm here, I get to speak for Clan Serdio - what's left of it, that is. Ten people or so aren't much of a clan."

At this Syuveil raised his head, interest in his green eyes for the first time. "Forgive me for intruding," he put in, "but are you saying what I believe you are? Clan Serdio numbers in the hundreds-"

Donar laughed shortly. "Yeah, it did, but not anymore, thanks to the Winglies. How do you think I got to the arena, ah-?"

"Syuveil," the scholar introduced quickly, brushing back his green and brown cloak to give a half-bow. "I too serve Lord Diaz."

"Well met," he returned, adjusting the straps of his pack in an unconscious gesture as he nodded. "But as I said, the Winglies attacked us something like a month ago. They didn't seem too interested in taking slaves, just killing. Of all our clan villages in the Eastlands, only a few of us were taken to the Slave City, and even fewer to the arena. I was just an ordinary warrior in the Guard…and now I'm what passes for clan elder." He laughed again, but the laugh was very bitter.

Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Syuveil sighed, "How unfortunate. Attacks like this are becoming all too common lately, even within Gloriano's borders."

"Hn," Kanzas snorted, "Winglies don't care about borders." He fell silent again, though this time it was because he'd felt something, a strange tugging sensation centered somewhere inside him. Suddenly grabbing at his wrist, he spun around, narrowing his eyes. "Stop doing that!" he snapped, though with less force than he might normally have used.

"Forgive me," Shirley apologized with a smile as she neared, her hand falling away from the Dragoon Spirit hanging at her neck. She briefly squeezed his arm, looking amused at his sour expression. "I wanted to see if it still worked, and it looks like-" Noticing Donar there, she cut herself off, turning to him and greeting neutrally, "Oh, hello."

He gave her a polite bow, eyes alighting with recognition. "I remember you," he blurted out. "It's good to see you're still alive, too."

She frowned quizzically, a bit startled by the statement. "I'm sorry, but…"

"He was in the arena," the Thunder Dragoon sighed, waving his hand uncaringly. He quickly hoisted himself up to the top of the wall and balanced there in a squat. "And he was just leaving."

"Kanzas," she murmured reproachfully before smiling at the other Human; despite her best efforts, the smile was a bit thin, tainted by the bad memories of the arena. "I'm glad someone else survived. It was a horrible place."

Donar shrugged in regret, having ignored the other man's remark. "Still is, I'm sure. Don't think it took them very long to fix the damage. Too bad the new fighters won't have you to throw them weapons - you're a brave lady."

It felt strange, blushing at the same time as her heart plunged into her stomach with remorse. Not brave enough, I'm afraid, Shirley thought, shaking her head as if to ward off the praise. "We all did what we could at the time," she answered faintly.

"Is that Damia?" Syuveil asked suddenly, his attention caught by the small figure standing down the path, waiting patiently some distance away. He waved at her, calling, "Damia, we're over here!"

"I think she knows, Syuveil," Shirley told him, turning to look back at the young girl. "She's been there a while, said she wasn't feeling well."

However, at the sound of the other Dragoon's voice, the half-mermaid lifted her head, hesitating before moving to join them, her fingers flicking over her hair, brushing it down over her eye as she had before. She clasped her hands behind her back, her gaze downcast shyly. "H'lo, Syuveil," she mumbled, her cheeks pink, before adding, "and everyone."

"Didn't you bring your hammer?" he asked her curiously, adjusting his glasses with his forefinger. "You'll need it for - for later…" He trailed off, the thought of Damia as a Dragoon making him remember what had happened with Shynn. He hadn't been allowed to see for himself, but from what he'd heard there wasn't much of his friend left intact to bury in the spring.

"My hammer? Um, I think Belzac has it," she answered a bit hastily, not noticing his sudden melancholy. "I…must have left it behind."

Feeling someone's gaze fixed on her, she looked up. Noticing the stranger among the group, Damia froze in place, wearing an uncomfortable expression. This was mostly because Donar, shocked, couldn't take his eyes off her - he only looked at the teal-haired girl, oblivious to the odd glances of the others around him, until a new voice, filled with false pleasantness, broke him from his reverie.

"It's not polite to stare, friend." However, Belzac, his gigantic axe strapped to his back, carrying Damia's hammer negligently in one hand, had made that sound a bit other than friendly, and the Human man jumped and coughed sheepishly into his hand.

"Sorry," Donar said immediately as she turned her head away sharply. "Didn't mean to - it's just that - well, never mind…"

Raising his eyebrow, the half-Giganto didn't reply, simply holding out the engraved weapon head-first to its owner, and Damia silently took it back from him. He then glanced over the wall they were next to into the training hall's yard and called, "Zieg, Rose! We should get going!"

"Right!" Zieg's voice came floating to their ears; a moment later, the sound of footsteps rang out as the two ran and vaulted up over the wall. As the Fire Dragoon landed neatly on the path, Rose swung her legs over right next to where Kanzas was crouched, knocking him off-balance and off the wall.

The two hit the ground at the same time, Rose alighting easily with just a slight stumble as the russet-haired man was forced to catch himself with his hands and twist back down to his feet, scattering the others as they hurried to jump out of his way. "Damn it, Rose!" he snarled, smoldering with anger.

She rolled her eyes as her fiancé tried not to laugh, brushing the folds of her indigo wrap smooth again. "Well, watch where you sit!"

"You saw me sitting there!" he protested heatedly, his annoyance not abating when Shirley put her hand on his arm in warning. Divine Tree, but he was tired of people holding him back all the time!

Donar blinked at Rose, running a hand through his sandy hair nervously. "And you're the woman fighter the soldiers here have been talking about. You have some interesting friends, Kanzas."

Friends, ha! he thought with a snort. He couldn't call them that - could he? Some of them, maybe, but… "You have no idea," the Dragoon said instead.

Eying the seven of them again, he finally shook his head, taking an unconscious step backward, and glanced up to check the sun's position in the sky. "Looks like it's almost midday," Donar said a little hastily, his face still rather pale. "I ought to get going to the square; I'm pledging my clan's support to Diaz."

"For what good it'll do," Kanzas muttered scornfully, though not quiet enough to avoid being heard.

"If it can do any good, then it's good," the man responded. "If I can kill even one Wingly, get some payback and keep just one of the bastards from destroying us, I'll die happy." Leaving it there, Donar shrugged and turned to move away, sneaking one more look at the half-mermaid as he did so. "See you around."

Unconcerned, Zieg barely waited until he was out of earshot before telling the others, "He's right, it is almost time. Everyone's spirit orb ready, then?"

"All taken care of, Zieg," Belzac told him, and the others also confirmed it. He quickly glanced toward Damia, who stood in absolute nervousness, her head bowed. However, a moment later she looked up to meet his gaze, giving him a quick grimace of a smile and taking a deep breath.

The blonde man gave a nod of satisfaction, and without another word, the Dragoons walked together toward Magrad's main square. Strangely, the thick crowd of soldiers gathering in the area gave way before them, leaving the road ahead clear - almost as if they could sense, in the backs of their minds, how important this unlikely group was going to be.

---

The noontime sun filled the center of the fort with its golden light, reflecting off the drifts of snow that edged the walkways above. As many people as possible lined the walls, sat on roofs, and were packed into the square itself, all watching the one man wearing dark-orange armor and a voluminous white mantle. It was the same armor the huge statue in the square was wearing, though the rough stone figure had a large helmet, its visor and shape sharp and angular, revealing nothing of the man who might have been beneath it. It seemed a strange decoration for such a fort, though perhaps its size and form were meant to represent Human strength. It needed no help in that regard today.

Standing ahead of the rest in an even semicircle around the raised stone platform were the seven Dragoons, waiting with various degrees of impatience for the long ritual to draw to its close. Outside the fort, thousands more were encamped, waiting.

The leaders of the free Human clans had been given places at the front of the area, and as the ceremony wore on each came forward to pledge their support to Lord Diaz, giving him their loyalty and their warriors. He accepted each deep bow or kneeling declaration with a nod of his own, the brown curls of his hair oddly bare. At his side stood Lord General Tibero, holding his ruler's crown across his palms reverently.

Most of the clan elders were indeed old, which made Donar all the more noticeable as he took his turn to make his pledge for Clan Serdio, dropping to his knee before Diaz. When he stood and turned to go back to his place, his eyes flicked across the crowd, catching on Damia once more before he saw Belzac, who scowled, making him look away quickly.

At the very last, Tibero turned to the man next to him, his iron-gray beard sweeping the stone below as he knelt. Clan Feld was the largest, strongest Human clan, its strength most needed during the struggle to come. Zieg looked on proudly as the elder proffered the ornate golden crown to Diaz, stating, "I, Tibero Feld, do swear loyalty to Diaz and Gloriano. With our blood and lives shall we serve you!"

Cheers rang out as, drawing his sword from its sheath, Diaz raised it and then rested the flat of the blade lightly on the older man's shoulder. "I do accept your loyalty and your service, Tibero Feld, Lord General! Rise!" When he'd stood again, the nobleman turned to face the crowd surrounding him. "As all have sworn, I declare the Human clans united at last! We who are blessed by the fate of Soa - Holy Imperial Gloriano!" Slowly, Diaz knelt down, his head slightly bowed as Tibero placed the crown on his head.

The cheers grew in volume as the new emperor rose before them, letting them cry out for a moment before raising his hand to stop them. Watching from almost directly in front of him, Shirley smiled, shaking her head fondly as she knew that, of course, Diaz was now going to speak.

"As all of you here today know, we Humans and the other species of the world have long suffered the tyranny of the Winglies," he began strongly. "Many have been the injustices they inflicted on our ancestors, and under the rule of Melbu Frahma these injustices grow. We are enslaved by them, our land is stolen by them, we are ordered to worship them - and now the final stone has been laid upon our backs. Now they threaten the lives of our children!"

A roar ran through the crowd of outrage; the news had spread quickly about the newest decree from the Palace of the Winglies. Rose, standing tall at the front right side of the square, pressed her palm over her heart as if it ached, her head bowed.

Letting the indignation settle slightly, Diaz went on, turning slowly as if to look at everyone. "Yes, though the stone they lay is heavy indeed, we will not break! It is time to throw off our burdens and to topple our oppressors from the skies! But how, it might be asked, can Humans overthrow the Wingly race, they who claim were created to rule?"

This is it, Kanzas thought, biting hard on his lip. Somehow, watching this, I can almost believe-

Pacing slightly, his face flushed, the emperor continued, "Ten years ago, I decided we should suffer their abuses no more. In order for us to live, the Winglies must perish! I prayed for an answer, and the gods revealed to me the secret of the power that will turn the tide - the power of the Dragons!"

There was a murmur at that, and at the front of the crowd Damia took a deep breath, her hands folded up tightly to her chest. When she looked up, she saw Syuveil standing nearby; he gave her an encouraging smile, one she did her very best to return.

"For ten years the power has been gathered, and at long last we have been proven worthy to take it into our hands. The long search has ended. The long wait is over!" He turned toward the onlookers, thrusting out his hands. "This is the power that will liberate us-!"

The explosion of color and sound sent the men standing behind the Dragoons back a short distance, exclamations of surprise sounding as around the circular platform the seven elements burst into being with bright flashes of light. Moments later, winged figures hovered low above them, clad in strange, shimmering armor, sparks of magic drifting everywhere as the Dragoons finished their transformations.

Just when it seemed a panic might ensue, Diaz's shout stopped them, a commanding tone that made them almost unconsciously turn back. "See with your own eyes the might of Dragon within Human! These incarnations of the mightiest of our allies will lead us to a new world! Blessed by the gods, the Dragon Knights of Holy Imperial Gloriano shall wash away the crimes of the Winglies with blood for blood, tears for tears! What we desire is freedom! Or give us death!"

Slowly, and then with more fervor, an echoing cry caught on, the soldiers roaring back, "God bless Diaz! God bless Gloriano!"

"I am to bring light to the Humans' future! I am to pass judgment on the past of the Winglies! I am Diaz!"

"God bless Diaz! God bless Gloriano!" they repeated, thrusting hands in the air as they cried it again and again. "God bless Diaz! God bless Gloriano!"

"All you who have sworn before me to serve, your loyalty will not long be unrewarded. These Dragoons you see before you, warriors Dragon and yet Human still, will set out for the south before the sun! I declare, upon these sacred stones, that at next dawn's light the first blow will be struck! Let the army that waits for us perish while ours prepares the next assault!"

Shirley immediately looked at Belzac, who had a similar expression of shock on his face. They were both thinking the same thing: We're attacking tomorrow morning?!

However, Diaz did not go on to explain further, merely turning to Rose and Zieg with a glint of amusement in his eye, while the crowd around them continued to scream out their approval. "You; I heard you are going to have a wedding after this campaign." He waited as Rose nodded, stunned, and Zieg gave him a broad grin. He smiled gently, adding in the same quieter tone, "There is no guarantee of coming back alive."

"Even if one of us dies," the blonde Dragoon announced brightly, "our bonds of affection are forever."

Rose gave him a half-reproachful glance, obviously not expecting this at all. "Zieg," she said chidingly, though with warmth clearly shining through.

"Your eyes are already looking at our future!" the emperor cried out as the other Humans shrieked in approval, ready to do anything for this man standing before them. He smiled again, turning back toward the people, raising his hand in the air as he shouted, "Then I will realize the future for you…!"

---

The plans for the attack had gone on well into evening before the seven Dragoons and their lord had separated again for the night. Everyone knew what they were going to do, though few of them felt very excited at the thought of this first, most important fight.

Stifling a yawn, Shirley paused before the door to her inn room, listening to the faint sounds of the flute playing within. She swung it open quietly, peeking around the edge to see Damia sitting cross-legged on the bed near the shuttered window. Her fingers flew across the holes of the silver instrument as she coaxed a fast tune from it. Her eyes were closed, her expression calm and peaceful in the low light of the bedside candle.

After a minute or so, she changed her tempo, dropping into slow, lazy music that lasted until she caught a glimpse of the woman standing there and immediately broke it off. "Oh, Shirley, you scared me," the half-mermaid blurted, swinging her legs to the side to stand up.

"No, don't," she said hastily, waving her hands as she came into the room before closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry for startling you, but I didn't want to interrupt."

"Oh," she answered, her pale face reddening, her hand clenched around the flute. "I was just messing around."

Shaking her head as she reached for her pack, which was leaning against the wall, Shirley smiled. "It was beautiful, Damia. I've been meaning to ask you since the feast how you learned to play so well."

Quiet for a while, she looked down at the flute in her hands, turning it to catch the soft yellow light. "Mother taught me," she finally said. "Her pipes weren't like this - just a shell, and holes, but it played the best music ever. And she played with the breath of the ocean and the sun and the gulls in the sky."

Maybe that's what I heard, that strange tone in her music, Shirley thought, pulling her nightgown from her pack and folding it in her arms as she turned to face the other Dragoon, who seemed lost in her thoughts.

The girl sighed, looking up again. "I don't remember too much about Mother, or our home near the shining island; I was too little when the Winglies took me away. But I remember what she showed me, how to play. I'm not as good, though. And metal doesn't call the waves, but Belzac gave this to me when we left Vellweb."

"That was nice of him," she commented, peeling off her jacket before sitting on the edge of the other bed to tug at her fur-lined boots. "Maybe we can visit your island someday, Damia, if you wouldn't mind it. The water off the coast of Gloriano is always cold."

Looking at the silver flute again, she smiled and nodded before leaning down to tuck it into her own pack, pulling her legs close to her chest. "I guess so, Shirley," she answered. "If I can remember where it even is. I do still miss the water."

When she'd changed into the long white shift, she crossed over to the other side of the small room to join Damia, sitting on the bed and after a moment's hesitation putting her arm around the twelve-year-old's shoulders. "Is there something bothering you?"

"It's…just…" She drew in a deep, shaky breath before bending to hide her face against her upraised knees. "I'm so scared to fight tomorrow!" the girl sobbed. "All those Winglies, and I don't know how and I don't know what to do and-"

Not even thinking about it, Shirley pulled her into her arms, letting her cry against her shoulder. "There's no shame in being scared," she murmured quietly, rocking her gently.

Drawing in another trembling breath, she went on, her voice muffled, "I don't want to die, Shirley, I don't want to die-"

As she stroked Damia's hair, she stared across the inn room as if she could see through the wall, shaking her head in regret. There had been shouting earlier; Belzac was very angry about Damia's part in the attack tomorrow. There hadn't been much time to train her to fight, and she'd only transformed twice now. She also knew that, apart from his anger, the half-Giganto was afraid for her, too.

"Damia," Shirley began, holding her tighter, "this might not help, but…I think we're just going to have to trust this is right, that this is meant to happen and it will be all right. You have to trust in your own magic, trust that you truly are the incarnation of a Dragon. We're all seven of us Dragons inside, who were chosen, and we have the power to save everyone."

She made a little choking laugh, tilting her teary eyes up to meet the woman's. "I don't feel like a Dragon," she whispered. "We have to kill the Winglies to save everyone, don't we? I don't think I can do it, Shirley! Their eyes are like mine, a-and they're alive too, even if they want to hurt us!"

"I know," she answered back painfully, eyelashes fluttering quickly to hold back the tears. "War is terrible, it's against Human nature…and yet…"

And yet, what other course was available to them? She too had no desire to kill even Winglies, but she knew that she would, that her arrows would find their marks and only later would she allow herself to grieve for the lives she had taken.

Slowly, as if in response to the halfhearted excuse, the girl moved her hand, slipping the necklace of Shirley's spirit orb out from under the neck of her shift. "If I was like you…" Damia said as she drew her fingers over the white-silver marble's glassy surface, her gaze downcast. "If I was strong like you and the others, then I could hurt and heal with the same hands."

Shirley tensed in shock at the words, opening her mouth to respond but unable to gather an answer. "Damia," she finally got out, the name forced from her lips.

Sighing, she pulled away from unresisting arms, raising her hands to the pin of her own Dragoon Spirit, attached to the collar of her nightgown, and gently unfastening it. "But I can't even heal with my spirit," she murmured sadly, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "I guess I can only hurt."

"That's not true," she whispered, shocking the half-mermaid with her vehemence. "That's never true."

When Damia looked up again, there was grim amusement on her face, the trace of scales on her cheek catching the candlelight. "Being a Dragoon's just like being a slave, isn't it, Shirley? I didn't choose it. I didn't want it." Pulling back her hand, she shifted to her knees as if to throw the blue orb across the room - but a moment later sat back on her heels, her fingers trembling as she clutched the spirit back to her chest. "And I can't run away, either!"

"Do you want to?" she asked after a moment, standing up and crossing to the pitcher and washbasin on the little table nearby. "If you could give it back, would you?"

"Yes!" she returned immediately, though a moment later her face fell and she looked down at the shining orb in her hands, amending, "But I…"

I understand what you're feeling now, and I do wish fate hadn't chosen you, I do. "We will do our best to help you, Damia, I promise." Sadness in her movements, Shirley slowly folded a cloth and dipped it in the water before returning to dab at the tearstains on Damia's cheeks. The girl tried half-heartedly to brush her hand away before giving a sigh and letting her do it, eyelids closing in relaxation.

In the stillness, voices drifted up the stairs from the inn's common room below. Someone could be heard protesting something lightly, followed by rowdy male laughter. A minute later, footsteps rang on the wooden stairs, and then the door to the room swung inward once more.

Damia's eyes flew open, but when she saw who it was she let them close again; Shirley glanced back as well before continuing to wash away the tears. Slipping through, Rose closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, heaving a sigh of exasperation, although she still wore a smile. "Honestly," she began before noticing the mood in the room and cutting herself off.

Standing away from the door, she gave Shirley a questioning look. The red-haired woman gestured with her chin at the Dragoon Spirit in Damia's hands, but said nothing in response. Tucking her hands behind her back, Rose sighed and gave the small inn room a critical look, noting the obvious fact that there were only two beds.

"I wish there'd been some other place for us to stay," she commented after a while.

"Magrad's overflowing with people now," Shirley told her, finally wringing out the cloth and putting it back on the table with an absent pat. "I don't mind having to share, even if we are Dragoons," she finished with a quick ironic smile.

Damia sat back on top of the woolen coverlet and re-pinned her spirit to the neck of her nightdress. "I don't mind - I mean, if you'll stay with me tonight?" she began haltingly, giving Shirley a pleading look which she recognized as a request to not tell Rose about her worries.

"Of course," she answered, smiling again before looking to Rose. "You can have the other bed, then, for tonight."

"All right," she replied with a shrug, her blue eyes glittering with sudden amusement as she reached for her own pack. "I did offer to stay with Zieg, but the innkeeper, of course, she'd have none of that. I expect she'll be prowling the halls to prevent scandalous encounters - but it's not as if everyone doesn't know that we're engaged, now, anyway."

Chuckling, Shirley sat next to Damia again as Rose fished out her own nightclothes and began to change. "You might be suspicious, but please don't blame me, Rose - I'm not the one who told Lor-Emperor Diaz about it."

"I know," she sighed, straightening out the sleeveless shift before pouring more water into the basin and washing her face and hands. "It was Zieg himself, of course, and after we'd agreed not to tell, too. Well, there's nothing to be done about it now." The Darkness Dragoon gave a look at the wall that divided their room from the next. "I'm surprised there's not more arguing over there, too, but they don't seem to have any problem with it."

Making a noise of agreement, Shirley shrugged; the four men had been given one room as well, although there were three beds in that one. "I don't expect Kanzas will want to stay there, anyway, so they probably won't have to share after all," she said as if to explain the lack of yelling.

"I'm sure you're right," Rose answered neutrally, walking over to them and gesturing for permission. Shirley nodded, and she sat at the end of their bed, watching the flickering of the bedside candle for a moment. "It's strange, but I'm almost enjoying this," she said, drawing up her knees and resting her arms on them. "I grew up alone, as you know, and nights could be very…quiet, and lonely, sometimes."

"Not for me," Damia put in a little shyly as they turned their heads to look at her and waited for her to go on. "I always stayed with my mother, and after that with the other kids in the quarters, when I had a master. And then in the room with the kids at school. W-when I get my room in the tower, it'll be the first time I've been alone."

"It's still a bit strange for me, having my own bed in my tower," Shirley agreed, smiling a bit fondly at the reminiscence. "Until I was sent to the temple in the Life City, I had to share a bed with my mother and my little brother, and the quarters themselves with the other Humans on the farm. I only wish I could remember what it was like with my older siblings…even warmer, probably."

Rose nodded slowly, the corner of her mouth quirked up. "I wished I had siblings, sometimes, too. That would have been nice, I think. It's silly, but I used to be so afraid of the dark, by myself at night."

"Nice, sometimes," she laughed back. "Other times, though, someone would be snoring, or it would get too hot, or someone would steal all the blankets…" Trailing off, she finished to herself, I don't ever think I was scared of the dark, then, though. Not until later.

"Well, please don't snore," the raven-haired woman said, standing again and giving them a pleasant look that lit up her usually guarded expression. "Mind if I blow out the candle? I know it's a bit early, but we should be getting our rest."

Shirley nodded, and with a breath the light fled, leaving the inn room in shadow except for a large streak of moonlight shining in from a gap in the shutters. In the silence, it was easy to hear the wind rattling the panels against the frame of the window. "Better close that," she muttered, pulling back the covers and clambering over the bed as Damia scooted to the side to let her reach it.

There was movement in the street below when she glanced through the gap, and as she looked down, the sound of a familiar voice caught her attention. "You're worse than fungus for turning up where you're not wanted, Clan Elder."

"I wasn't looking for you, but since you're here, I want to talk to you," another man replied. "Now I know what you wanted with freeing that Dragon-"

"So what?" Kanzas snapped back, crossing his arms beneath his black cloak. Donar remained standing behind him, the lanky Human still carrying all his possessions strapped to his back. "I already told you why I was there."

Furtively, the young woman opened the shutters a little more, peering out. "What're you doing, Shirley?" Damia whispered next to her, pulling the blanket up over her arms against the sudden chill of the draft.

Rose chuckled from where she'd settled in on the other side of the small room, already sounding half-asleep. "Eavesdropping, isn't it? You're too curious for your own good."

"It looks like Kanzas is down there," she answered, frowning a little. "Talking to someone, I think. Oh - it's that man from this morning, that clansman from the arena."

The half-mermaid pulled up to her knees, looking over the woman's shoulder before dropping back down into bed again. "Him, he keeps staring at me," she said, curling her lip. "I saw it during the ceremony, too. It's not like my master used to do," Damia went on, shuddering a little, "but I don't like it anyway. It's my ears, or my stupid hair…"

"Next time, tell him to stop," Rose advised her, curling onto her side. "You don't have to put up with that anymore. Shirley-"

"Just a minute," she shushed, cracking the shutters a little bit more. What was Kanzas doing out now, anyway, with the attack at dawn? Is being in a room with the others for one night that bad?

Donar, shrugging, said, "Well, I was going to say that you don't strike me as the kind who freely serves anyone. Getting the Dragon back I can understand, but now you're a Dragon Knight-"

He snorted, pacing a little, boots crunching down the snow that had fallen onto the mostly-cleared streets. "Is there something wrong with that? What I'd like to know is why you're hanging around me just because we fought together in the arena."

"I have a debt to you," he answered seriously. "I couldn't have escaped that place alive if you and the others hadn't made your own escape, and I can't just ignore that."

"I understand debts," Kanzas returned with sudden insight, waving his hand dismissively, "but I'm not going to hold you to anything. I didn't care if I freed you then, and I don't care now. You're free. Congratulations. Have a good life."

Donar held out his arm to stop him from leaving, his voice suddenly stern. "Even so. Look, Kanzas, I don't have a company of men to bring to this army. There's three left in my clan fit to fight, and the rest just scared women and children. Children…" He shook his head hard, continuing, "Clan Serdio is dead. Yeah, I swore to Diaz, but he's not going to be right out on the battlefield, is he? You were my leader in the arena, and I'll follow you now."

Taken aback, he retorted rather angrily, "I'm nobody's leader anymore. I stayed out of it, as you should know. You were the one those pathetic men looked to-"

"Before they looked to you," Donar finished for him, the wind whipping his hair around wildly. "And you, of course, didn't care either. I saw what you did to the old boss when he kept lording it over you. What someone does in a place like the arena shows what they're really made of, and I've got no use for weaklings."

"Then join the Winglies," Kanzas spat, turning his back once more and stepping away, "if you want to be sure of winning. All you'll find here are ten thousand crazy men who are going to be sent to Mayfil."

Donar shook his head, grabbing hold of his forearm. "But you're here despite that, and, even if you're crazy, I think you know which way the storm will move. I've got thunder affinity too, you know. Let me help you. I've got to repay you somehow."

Kanzas knocked his hand from his arm, a scowl etched deeply on his face. "You said that already, I think. And I told you once before - I don't need you, and I don't accept your debt to me. Just leave me alone."

"So why are you here?" Donar demanded crossly, clouds of his breath swirling around his face. "If you don't believe we'll win this war, why are you even here?"

"I am here," he answered without turning around, "because someone asked me that same question." That short hallway beneath the arena…it seemed like an age had passed since then. "I'm here because Shirley wants me to be."

Donar made a scoffing noise, though he looked a bit abashed afterward. "I don't think I believe that. You're not just a soldier, but a Dragon Knight, and just because of that woman…?"

Oh, Kanzas, that can't be true, Shirley thought at the same time, trying to ignore the looks that Rose and Damia were giving her. She felt a little surprised that the promise they'd made meant so much to him, although part of her wasn't surprised at all.

"Sure, okay," the Dragoon sighed, as if finally worn down by the questioning, "I'm not gonna say I don't like the thought of destroying the Winglies." He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "But I should be doing it on my own. I…I'm not some…some knight or anything…I'm - you're really pissing me off!" Suddenly narrowing his eyes, as if he'd just had a thought, he clenched his fists, drawing back his arm as he began to turn.

Her chest tightening with an odd kind of fear, Shirley jolted forward, pushing out the shutters with both hands as if she'd suddenly wanted some fresh air. She breathed a sigh of relief as Kanzas froze in mid-spin, leaning out of the window with her hands braced on the sill. Her red hair flying around her face in the cold wind, she called down brightly, "Kanzas? Why are you still up?"

The angry frown he gave her nearly scared her; he stared at her with an inscrutable gaze, as if searching for something, but finally he just looked back over his shoulder at Donar, snapping, "Go away."

"All right, all right," the guardsman sighed, holding up his hands in surrender before turning to go.

Kanzas watched for a moment before turning back to the window, but the thin smile on his face now was little better than the frown. I don't call that a coincidence…she was watching and thought I wanted to kill him, is that it? "What is it now?" he shouted.

"Go to bed, Kanzas," she hissed back down, motioning him to be quieter. "Stop talking outside everyone's windows. Even you will need sleep for tomorrow." Hesitating a moment, she finally added, "No one's going to kill you here."

He looked up at her, sighing, and then his smile changed. Before Shirley could react, he made a quick running jump onto the frozen-over rain barrel, raising him up enough that he could grab hold of the edge of the roof. Swinging himself neatly up onto the slate, he walked up the roof's little incline and leaned forward onto the windowsill, giving the other two a brief glance and a smirk.

"What are you…?" she stammered out, leaning backward, her fingers clenched tightly on the splintery wood of the sill. Damia muffled an exclamation, pulling the covers higher over her, and in the darkness behind them, Rose glowered angrily.

"No one will kill me? I don't know," he told her softly. "I think Belzac might just try." Her gentle brown eyes flew wide, and he shook his head in amusement, leaning forward further. She froze in place, her heart racing, and then his lips brushed her forehead before he pulled away. "Anyway, goodnight," Kanzas finished, laughing at her stunned expression before standing back and crossing the roof toward his own window.

A moment passed before Rose murmured warningly, "Shirley…"

It was obvious what she meant; this was not a good time for the Dragoons to be against each other, and she was well aware that she was in the midst of just that kind of strife. She reached out to pull the shutters in and latch them closed, her hair immediately falling from the sudden lack of wind; that spot on her forehead burned in the cold air. Letting out a breath, she sat back on her knees and answered slowly, "I know…I know."

---

The sound of feet pounding resounded outside the tent before the flap was clumsily untied and flung open. "Commander! Commander!"

Startled awake, the Wingly man thrashed into an upright position on his cot, and the Human slave curled up on the ground on the other side of the tent leapt in terror to his feet. The commander blinked at the young sentry outlined in the tent opening. Pale pink clouds tinted by the rising sun filled the sky that could be seen there. "What is it, soldier?" he managed to get out, unconsciously running his fingers through the platinum waves of his hair and trying to look a little more composed.

"Dragons, sir!" he returned quickly, pointing upward as his commander jumped out of bed to join him at the doorway. "The scouts have reported seven Dragons several miles away, surrounding camp and closing in on us, sir, from all points but south!"

It wasn't wise to underestimate the power of Dragons, but it wasn't that thought making his throat constrict and his mouth dry up. Dragons were very territorial and generally couldn't stand each other. One of them approaching might have made sense, but seven? Garnet-colored eyes widened, and he demanded, "Humans - are there Humans with them?"

"Humans, sir?" the soldier asked, confused. "Humans with the Dragons, sir?"

The officer didn't answer, frozen in mid-motion, staring at the sky like a statue. Leki Bardel had been commander of this branch of the Wingly army for only a week now, appointed after his predecessor, Arturo, had been killed by some Human gladiator during an uprising in Kadessa. One week, and he was already facing the threat he'd been warned about - there was no other explanation for this.

He had been informed of his new post just before he'd been summoned to the capital to meet with Melbu Frahma. Leki was an eldest son of obscure, unimportant lineage, and before this he had been merely sub-commander of the Watch in Zenebatos. His sudden promotion had his entire family in shock at the new social status he had brought them; his sister had fainted at the thought of the parties she would now be able to attend, and his father had almost been in tears.

Commander of the army that kept the peace in the Southlands, quelling rebellions and ensuring Wingly safety - he could barely believe it was true. But he hadn't felt at all like a commander as he'd entered the great halls of the Palace of the Winglies, led by a submissive slave into the drawing room where Frahma sat waiting for him. He'd not been able to keep back a shudder, either, as he looked upon his lord, at the strange stone-gray skin, pointed ears and piercing blue-green eyes, thinking how unlike a Wingly this most powerful man actually was.

And Leki remembered now what Melbu Frahma had told him, speaking in those soft, controlled tones of an uprising of Humans as calmly as he might speak of the afternoon tea. "There is now an unholy union between the apes and the Dragons," he'd said to the kneeling officer before him. "And, before long, you too will have to face the Dragoons - the atrocities that were created by this vile alliance."

"May I ask what I can expect, my lord, if we should face these…Dragoons?" was all he could think of to ask in return, utter nervousness gripping his insides. There were so many stories about what Melbu Frahma might do if he felt displeased, and, though he was ashamed of it, he was afraid to demand an explanation of this horrible news.

"Commander Bardel," Frahma had answered in a tone that brooked no argument, "you can expect to win." Raising a hand, the dictator made a motion with his fingers, somehow no longer needing any of the complicated glyphs to cast his magic. A moment later, a round amulet the size of his palm fell into his open hand, and he dangled it on its chain in front of the commander at his feet. "With this," he began…

Shaking his head, the Wingly snapped out of his memory, turning quickly back into his tent and flinging open the lid of the metal chest at the end of his cot. Paying no attention to the baffled sentry behind him or the gape-mouthed Human nearby, Leki lifted out the amulet Frahma had given him, holding it up to his face. It was a chalky white color engraved with black lines that surrounded a smooth, round leaf-green gemstone. With this…

Leaping to his feet, he turned to the soldier, his kind eyes narrowing suddenly. "Everyone out and ready, right now!" he shouted, making the other man jump. "Tell the captains battle formations and in the air, ready to meet the attack, now! Go!"

"Y-yes, sir!"

As he flew quickly to pass on the order, Leki briefly clutched the amulet to his chest before gesturing to his slave to help him on with his heavy dark-brown plate armor and commander's surcoat. The sounds of shouting voices were already rising from outside the tent. One week. One week with this army under his command, and now he had to face an attack of the kind the Winglies had never before seen. Seven Dragons and seven Humans against an army! If Frahma hadn't warned him that these - these Dragoons even existed, he knew he would have laughed and sent that soldier away.

Hastily dressed now, despite the shaking hands of the terrified Human, he jammed his helmet onto his head, grabbed his glaive, and tore outside. His face was angled to see above the surrounding treetops, and he looked up with apprehension he knew he should have controlled. It was impossible to miss, even in this bad light - from almost every separate direction a dark shape was streaking toward the valley, sparks of magical energy trailing from large translucent wings. As they closed in, the officer could clearly see smaller shapes flying alongside each Dragon.

Humans. They were winged Humans.

"Archangel, protect us!" Leki breathed, his own gossamer energy wings shooting from his back, extending from beneath the wing-guards of his elaborate armor. The amulet swinging wildly around his neck, his weapon in hand, he flew toward the front of his own company, shouting orders as he went, all the while fearing the unknown future at hand. What was coming for them? How powerful could seven Humans and seven Dragons be against five thousand Wingly soldiers?

There were no words exchanged, no attempt to parley. The attackers swooped down on the encampment without a pause; a green glow flared around the form of the Jade Dragon, and, as they'd been trained to do, the first line of defenders went to meet it, shield spells prepared to deflect the Dragon magic while the second rank began tracing the sigils for earth spells.

However, they had not counted on the other six Dragons each unleashing their power onto the army they were effectively surrounding. One by one, the powers of the seven elements crashed together, tearing like shockwaves through the Winglies. Wind and earth, fire and water, light and darkness and electricity collided with the small figures, many of whom were not at all prepared for a hit.

The neat formations broke apart in the confusion, horror descending on the survivors as the mangled bodies of soldiers began dropping to the ground. Commander Leki, protected but immobile within the orb of his shield, stared in complete shock. This was not how Dragons behaved! It went against everything he'd been taught - there was no way seven of them could have chosen to cast their magic at the very same time! No way - except-

Leki gasped before dropping his shield and spinning in the air, shouting in a futile attempt to restore order to what was left of his army. This was the result of the 'unholy union' Melbu Frahma had spoken of - the Humans were controlling the Dragons.

---

And those Humans were moving now, their Dragoon armors bright flashes of color as they whipped forward into the chaos the Dragons had left for them.

Damia, however, hung back alongside her vassal Dragon - which she'd called Stephen - as he flew into the fray, her entire body trembling. The Dragon himself was frightening enough, for the first time she'd seen him had been early this morning when he'd flown into Magrad with the rest, but at least he wasn't going to be trying to kill her.

They'd all been warned to try to keep in Dragoon form as long as possible, for if they were to attack at all it would be necessary to recharge their spirit energy on the ground. She flew hesitantly as the noise of magic exploded all around her, as even Stephen ignored her uncertain mental entreaties and aimed his magic wherever he pleased. Her own armor seemed like it would hardly protect her, hardly covered her at all, though she didn't feel any kind of chill from her exposed skin even as the wind battered against her from the speed of her flight.

She watched as, summoned by the blue and gold creature, a gigantic wave of water roared up from some point on the ground far below, gathering itself up before crashing into a group of Winglies. Shimmering ice crystals crawled their way up the wave as the swell began to flatten, entombing the soldiers in frozen water before shattering and sending yet more bodies to litter the valley floor.

At first she'd thought she'd be perfectly content to haunt her vassal Dragon's movements, but Damia found herself feeling guilty that she wasn't doing more to help the others. It was just that she could barely force herself to do more than hover in the air, her hammer clutched tightly in small blue-gauntleted hands. All around her people were dying, and she was so scared, and yet she felt something else inside; it was almost as though it was moving, a coil of energy in her chest slithering ever so slowly around itself…

The half-mermaid let out a scream as a Wingly soldier suddenly streaked toward her, his sword poised for a desperate attack. Not even thinking about it, she raised her free hand, the magic in her veins reacting immediately as a blanket of snowflakes descended on the man, a biting wind sweeping through him. She stared in shock as he looked back at her for a moment, his face and helm frosted white - it was even on his eyelashes, she noted crazily, just before his wings dissipated and he plummeted; dead or unconscious, she didn't know.

It was then that Damia realized Stephen had gone on without her, leaving her flying alone, just above the turmoil, in plain view. She adjusted her grip on her hammer and closed her eyes, prepared to simply plunge wildly toward the ground waiting below, when suddenly an arm slid around her waist. Someone ducked in between her wings and jerked her upward before flying back down in a dizzying loop through clouds of smoke. "Let go!" she screeched, struggling wildly, the oversized hammer whipping back over her head.

"Careful!" a voice admonished, and she immediately went still at the sound of Syuveil's accent in her ear. She could barely hear it over the sounds of the wind whipping past them, the blasts of magic and screams of pain, but he went on breathlessly, "Shirley…told us…to look after you!"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" she cried back, hoping he wouldn't point out that it was obvious: she was supposed to be killing Winglies.

Instead, however, he only nodded, his wings flaring as he pulled her to a quick stop. "Cast your spell now," he told her, eyes flicking to follow the movements of the soldiers above, who at the moment were more concerned with the Dragons than them. "While we're down low!"

Though still feeling as if she was frozen inside, the want to impress Syuveil won out over the rest of her emotions. Unsure how to call upon the Dragoon magic, she raised her large mallet hesitantly, and then instinct took over and everything became clear. It was not time for thinking anymore!

Not wanting to catch him in the spell, Damia suddenly flew in front of the scholar, beginning a wide twirl. Chunks of ice formed in the air as the weapon whipped past, gathering around her in a circle-shape, and then she raised her hand, her ruby-eyed gaze catching on a small cluster of Winglies nearby. "Freezing Ring!" Gesturing, she sent the ice around her hurtling toward the soldiers, surrounding them with it moments before the frozen chunks drove in on them.

"Wing Blaster!"

She was barely able to react to what she'd done before realizing Syuveil was also moving, covered in a green wing-like glow and tearing toward the brown-armored men. The rest of her thoughts fled a moment later as she felt the energy of her spirit dropping, warning her that she was going to return to normal - and everything in her did not want to fall like that again.

Gasping, she started flying toward the ground, not quite there before her body was covered in a bright blue-white glow. Squeezing her eyes closed, Damia bit her lip against a cry, and then nearly bit through it as Syuveil caught her wrist, hurting her arm but, more importantly, keeping her from hitting the ground.

He stared at her in relief, for a moment only able to wish that he'd been able to catch Shynn like that, before feeling his own armor shimmering away…

---

Nearly on the other side of the valley, Kanzas flew alongside Taranis, keeping pace with the violet vassal Dragon's frantic speed. The idea behind this battle had been to let the Dragons handle most of it, with the Dragoons mentally guiding them. Of course, he thought to himself, what's the fun in that?

A grin spreading across his angular features, he left Taranis with a quick /You know what to do,/ and swooped down toward the first brown-armored soldier he saw, his fists clenched, the long curved single blade jutting out from the back of his hand and glittering in the light of the magic flares blooming all around them.

The man hurried to block the attack with the flat of his blade, but Kanzas kicked back and upward again, a glow brightening around his fingers as he flipped back down to slam his heels against the Wingly's shoulders. He was forced to dodge away from the sword as the soldier whipped it in a sweep toward him, but ducking back upward he rammed the claw into the man's eye, tearing it back out with a laugh as blood gushed, energy wings flickered, and his opponent fell.

It was like rain; he didn't know when he'd last seen such a beautiful sight, the Winglies falling like rain as the rocks below slammed upward, spraying the air with debris as the Dragon magic crashed down into the valley. He could only hang there and stare, watching it as though it wasn't actually happening in the deadly reality all around him.

However, he was broken from his reverie by the sudden yanking feeling of the power draining away from his Dragoon Spirit, and he immediately shot upward, focusing his thoughts on Taranis. With a bright flash of light, the wings and armor vanished, and his stomach felt like it was still going in the other direction as he began a freefall toward the exploding ground.

A streak of purple beneath him stopped his descent, his fingertips just barely catching on the edge of the Dragon's collar, the huge chain whipping along right next to him. Adrenaline energy pounding through him, he let out a whoop of excitement as Taranis corkscrewed down toward the ground, the edges of Wingly spells sparking against their sides like tiny bites.

Kanzas let go and swung down toward the corpse-littered field as his Dragon began to lunge back upward, roaring out a challenge as he headed toward the nearest group of Winglies. There was a crunching sound as he landed hard on one of the bodies, and as he rolled to his feet, his eyes flicked around for a glimpse of any still alive.

Seeing movement, he charged that in that direction, caught in a strange, almost euphoric feeling. As he descended upon the wounded soldiers with quick, efficient swipes of his blade, he suddenly felt like laughing until he couldn't breathe.

Killing like this, of course, was the only way the Dragoons would be able to return to the air, as it was unlikely any of their enemies would come down to fight them hand-to-hand, assuming they even bothered to notice the Human figures at all. The plan had been to never de-transform, but as he scanned the area Kanzas saw that he was not the only one who'd already used up his power.

Shirley stood not far away, bow bent in her hand and an arrow drawn back on the string; spatters of blood covered her white clothing and armored vest, matching the brightness of her hair in the dawn light. With utter calmness, she let her dart fly at the Wingly struggling up to his feet before her. He was thrown back with a sudden choking cry, the wooden shaft embedded between neck and shoulder, gasping as he raised his hands to cast a spell at her. Wind whipped up around them, throwing rock dust into the air, but she had already yanked another arrow from her quiver, aimed and shot again.

The arrow drove deep into his neck, and the man collapsed into a heap. She walked over to tug the arrows from his body, wiping them absently on the side of her pants. When the White-Silver Dragoon glanced up at him, a quirk of a smile on her face, Kanzas couldn't help but stare back, the crushed throat of a Wingly sliding from his fingers. That look in her eyes, the strange cruel light in them, seemed so familiar that he was almost scared when he realized it was because he'd seen it before on his own reflection.

She seemed to become conscious of something when she looked at him, too, because the odd confidence and the wild glow faded like a dying spark, replaced by a look of vague shock as the color drained from her skin. "Kanzas?" she asked, frowning, before looking around in confusion and then staring up at the flashes of magic above. "We weren't…supposed to use up our energy…"

"Turn around!" he bellowed back, and she spun in time to clumsily evade the blade that slashed downward at her, stumbling over the body at her feet and staggering back up to face the battered soldier who'd attacked her, unbalanced as she reached for the dagger at her belt.

Too far away, he bent to grab for a rock - why the hell was it hovering off the ground? - and threw it hard at the Wingly. It clipped the back of his head, sending him pitching forward, and Shirley drove the dagger down hard into the back of the soldier's neck, leaving it there as he fell.

As he pushed his way over to her, Kanzas could see her shaking and reached out to take hold of her arm, squeezing it tightly until she flinched in pain. He knew he'd gathered enough energy to fill his Dragoon Spirit again, though for some reason it had taken longer than it usually did, and so he spat, "I'm going back! You transform too!"

Trying to force her breath to steady, Shirley gave him a pleading look before glancing up again. No, he was right; she needed to get back up there, to tell Eremi where to aim like she was supposed to be doing. Several of the Dragons seemed to be attacking randomly now, no longer being guided, and she hoped the others were all right.

"Yes," she answered finally, making herself ignore the stench of burnt flesh and blood and the moans of the dying Winglies around them. Almost at once they both called upon their spirits, illuminating the rubble as their Dragoon armor formed around their bodies, light and lightning mingling to propel them into the sky.

The number of Winglies had decreased considerably, even in the short time she'd been on the ground. Only a few knots of resistance were left, the soldiers protected by shield spheres that left them unharmed but immobile. Rose and Zieg were surrounding a group of these not far away, close to the buckling ground. It wouldn't be long before their wills gave out and their shields fell, and the tension was high as both sides waited for this to happen.

Kanzas suddenly grabbed Shirley's wrist, dragging her through the air until she had the presence of mind to flare her wings and slow him down. "This isn't the time for games!" she shouted as he finally let her go at quite a higher altitude than they'd been before.

"What games?" he answered back lightly, turning slowly to survey the battlefield. "We're gonna attack! Get ready to cast that star spell of yours, back to mine!"

"You can't!" she retorted, gasping as he turned to face in the other direction; she could almost feel his wings surrounding her own, beating steadily in perfect time. A stream of bluish light shot past them, freezing-cold as it nicked against her cheek, and she flinched, seeing a Wingly tracing a sigil and aiming upward once more. "If you cast anything, you'll fall again!"

He laughed, shaking his head, and she could see a vague electrical glow from his hand as he continued, "Just do it - ready - ready - and now!"

Worried and annoyed, she grudgingly lifted her bow above her head, the droplets of light beginning to shimmer downward. Behind her, Kanzas flicked his hand into the air, sending sparks flying from his fingers, the electricity of it making her hair briefly float up fanlike around her face.

"Star Children!" Shirley cried as she drew down her hands, watching in fascinated horror as the bright multicolored hiss of her power flared up through the Winglies in a near semicircle below. Completing it on the other side was another bright light, bolts of lightning crackling in the space and spraying rocks free as the other Dragoon finished his own spell.

She flew in a spin to face him when the glow had died, demanding irately, "You have another already?" As far as they'd been able to tell, the Dragoon Spirits grew in power when they'd absorbed enough life energy; she didn't even want to contemplate how much it actually took, or how he'd gotten it all.

"You think I was just sitting around in that arena for a week?" Kanzas snapped when he saw the look on her face, giving her a scowl from under the spiked violet headpiece that shaded his eyes. "C'mon, I'm not going to lose the armor yet, so let's-"

"Explosion!" As the Winglies he'd been facing started to lose their shields, Zieg had dived down and driven his sword into the ground; a long snake of fire stretched out along the devastated valley floor before rumbling up with a dome of flame, catching the soldiers in its blast. One in more elaborate armor and bearing a large glaive, obviously a ranking officer, shot upward through the flickering remains of the fire even as his men fell below.

Flying in a wide, spinning arc, he made a feint toward the Red-Eye Dragoon that Zieg was almost able to dodge. However, the heavy blade of the glaive carved a deep cut through his bicep, tearing a large chunk of muscle from his left arm. Rose shouted in outrage, an indigo glow alighting around her form, and Shirley called his name in worry, leaving Kanzas and moving downward immediately to help.

With a growling cry of pain, Zieg dropped to the ground as his armor shimmered away, letting his sword fall as he grabbed at the wound to try to staunch the blood. A moment later he was out of sight as flying rocks collided in midair, showering the area with fragments. Forced to twist away to avoid being hit by the stones, Shirley tried desperately to gain sight of him again.

Drawing back, her expression dark with anger, Rose hurled her saber at the Wingly officer who'd attacked her fiancé, crying, "Astral Drain!" It lodged into his midsection, throwing him back, and as she flew higher into the air its hilt began to glow with a pulsing red light, drawing itself back out as the commander stared down at himself in shock.

The red light gathered itself up and shot in a beam toward her, hitting her squarely in the chest, and she pulled up into a ball for a moment, letting out a shriek of pain before the energy shot from her down toward the ground, a bluish-yellow color now. It surrounded Zieg, who was kneeling and trying to cover his head from flying rocks; he looked up defensively, and Rose immediately descended to land on the ground next to him, the sword returning to her open hand as she reached up for it.

Watching, Shirley saw that the energy had healed Zieg somewhat, sealing the cut on his arm, and she felt relieved, though she was somewhat troubled by the way Rose's spell had done it, not to mention the pain it had caused her to use. She was able to kill that officer and take his blood, his life, to heal Zieg? She looked toward the ashen-faced man and amended the thought, as he was not dead, but definitely stunned, the rent in his armor leaking streamers of blood that seemed to hang in the air.

Before she could do anything about it, however, the Wingly broke out of his shock and dropped his glaive, reaching for something that was hanging around his neck. She didn't know what it was, but as the platinum-haired man's body suddenly arched back, a ragged cry tearing from his throat as his hands flared with a bright green glow, she knew that it was not good at all…

---

Belzac, on the ground for the moment, was not far away, but his search for living Winglies was not going quite as well. The attacks that had taken place here had been more deadly than others, and he hadn't been able to recharge his Dragoon Spirit. It was getting more and more dangerous to stay below, though - he could feel the pained shudder of the earth beneath him even through the soles of his boots. Every so often the ground would buckle and crack, the magical pressure sending rock flying into the air and, very rarely, back down again.

There was nothing left in what had once been a cleared, tree-edged valley, not even the wounded soldiers he was seeking. His large axe held high to deflect any of the airborne debris that shot in his direction, he made his way over the rubble, checking all the brown-armored bodies he could find for signs of remaining life to steal away.

Though he felt ill if he thought long about what he was doing, the half-Giganto also knew that there was no time to regret or to hold back, not if he wanted to live. Even so, 'it's us or them' was cold comfort when he was faced with such carnage as this.

"Haaa-!"

The sound of Damia's cry made him straighten and look around suddenly, worried, and upon hearing another scream, he hurried toward its source. However, when he came over the rise Belzac could only stand there, his jaw dropping in shock. What's she-?

Even as he watched, the girl drew back her hammer and swung it forward with the force of her entire body, slamming it into the head of a soldier struggling up to his knees and crushing in the side of his skull. Though she stood straight again and calmly rested the haft of the hammer on her shoulder, hand on her hip as she looked down at the fallen Wingly, her face was deadly white and her eyes were huge, the pupils within the ruby irises contracted to pinpoints.

"Damia!" Belzac shouted, sliding down the pile of stones and beginning to run toward her. When she heard him, she turned to him sharply, staring almost as if she didn't recognize him. Before he got much closer, however, a wave of water rose up in front of her, freezing and shattering to reveal her Dragoon form, and with a strong flap of wings she shot into the air without a word.

Cursing to himself, he cast around wildly for something, anything that could give him the last bit of spirit energy he needed to transform and go after her, but there was only death here, the same as before. He looked up into the early-morning sky, searching for Damia, but instead of finding her he witnessed instead as Zieg was wounded by the Wingly officer and went down, as Rose tried to heal him and then lost her own armor, and then-

The pale greenish glow coming from the Wingly man the others had been fighting almost blinded him, even down here on the ground. Belzac, moving into a defensive position, watched to see what would happen, but there was nothing - nothing until a Dragon-sized creature seemed to drop from the sky, landing with an earth-shaking thud not far from him and knocking him off his feet. As the rumbling died, an unnatural hush fell over the battlefield; even the remaining Winglies were still and unsure.

Pulling up to his knees, the Golden Dragoon stared in awe at the thing that had been summoned. It loomed hugely above him, its hide a pale gray color; what looked like a large, irregular green gem filled its midsection, tilted forward and resembling the abdomen of an insect in mid-sting. The crested thing on top had to be its head, because it had limbs, but he couldn't even tell if it was facing him or not.

Overall, this creature gave him a bad feeling which only grew when he saw the Dragons' reaction to it. There was definite hostility emanating from them, but his own vassal Dragon, Gleam, was projecting feelings of fear as well that Belzac didn't quite understand. What would a Dragon be afraid of?

He heard a sudden low hiss, staggering to his feet just as Gleam flew past above him, roaring as he charged the strange creature. It lumbered to face the young golden Dragon, raising a clawed hand to swipe at him; Belzac winced as the fingers scraped along Gleam's side, making a high-pitched squealing noise against the scales. The others were holding their Dragons back, he saw, and though he tried to call his away, he was being quite firmly ignored.

/Damn it,/ he snapped mentally. His vassal Dragon was much too stubborn for his own good. Not being very fast, he wasn't dodging the strikes; one hit sent him tumbling through the air, shimmering dust spilling from his wings as he righted himself and charged again with an affronted roar. /Damn it, Gleam, get away from that thing!/

Another snarl echoed through the sky as Taranis suddenly descended on the creature, thrashing his spiked head against the thing's broad crest. Whatever it was made no noise in response, but a vague reddish light grew from its forehead, and with a sudden explosion the violet Dragon was thrown back as well. Making a sound almost like a shriek, Kanzas' Dragon whipped back again, mouth open wide and teeth bared.

The two Dragons kept flying at the thing, their huge bodies twisting to avoid the long fingers their enemy swiped at them. Taranis reared back, a thick bolt of lightning streaming from his throat, and though it crashed headlong into the huge creature, it did little more than force it to stagger backward. Gleam, touching down to the ground briefly, tried to create a crater to suck the thing beneath, but as the depression grew their opponent merely kicked up off the ground, breaking free of the pressure.

Gleam's rage pounded into his head, and Belzac winced slightly at the strength of the Dragon's emotion, thin brows pulled into a deep frown. /I know you don't like it,/ he thought back, /but you're not affecting it at all-/

The creature struck again, fingertips raking along the side of his vassal Dragon's neck. The sense of pain and anger he received back across their mental link hit with all the force of a blow, accompanied by a strange burning from the pocket inside his vest where his Dragoon Spirit rested. Without thinking, he reached to pull it free, clenching his hand tightly around the small orb despite the heat coming from it.

Staring up through the rocks at the thing, his eyes wide, Belzac suddenly started forward at a run, leaping over bodies and then finally stepping on them as he aimed for a large chunk of earth that some spell had torn free. As he put his weight on the stone, it shuddered and began to rise upward, and he gasped and flailed his arms to keep his balance.

What can I do like this? I'm not even transformed! half his mind was demanding of him, but the rest of him kept moving, propelling him up onto another rock that hung in the air. His fingers ached from the heat of his spirit, but he could no more let go of it than make himself stop breathing. Now he was nearly level with the pale gray creature, and close enough that he could feel the wind of the two Dragons' wakes against him as they rushed past it, their roars echoing.

Slowly, an almost stunned expression on his face, Belzac raised the orb above his head, feeling the burn of it increase as golden rays of light suddenly spilled from between his fingers. There was a drawing feeling inside him, just like the sensation he got when his spirit absorbed life energy from his attacks, but it was stronger, so much stronger that he felt himself swaying and had to fight to stay upright. Gleam halted his flight, the stocky Dragon hovering in midair, his short wings quivering and spraying brightly-colored sparks.

It hurt now, his fist above his head trembling although his fingers refused to unclench, and the ground below began to shake as if in resonance, a great rumbling filling the air. The creature slowly turned as if to search out the source of the power, its odd eyes extending on stalks; somewhere behind him, Rose finally retransformed and dragged Zieg up into the air as the earthquakes knocked her fiancé off his feet. Everyone left in the sky was staring at him now, wondering what was happening, what he was doing.

Belzac let out a cry, the glow brightening as the ground trembled and seemed to gather like a wave, and a moment later Gleam roared loudly, flinging back his small head. The creature moved to open its wings and lift off the ground, but the earth continued to rise upward, trees and rocks and the bodies of Winglies gathering together in a gigantic wave.

He watched as it reached its pinnacle and suddenly surged forward, the wave of earth bowling over first the creature, and then Taranis and Gleam. A moment later, as he could only stand there and stare, it crashed into him too.

Trees cracked and snapped under the force of the dirt and rocks burying them, the wave flattening out and spreading as if it was truly water, and when it had settled there was nothing left on the valley floor but a new layer of ground. Massive chunks of stone and earth that had been torn from their resting places had been flung into the air and for some reason weren't falling, colliding with each other and spinning wildly away.

"Oh my god!" Zieg choked out, clutching onto Rose's large shoulderplates as she held him up off the ground. Damia wailed in grief from somewhere nearby, her small form curled inward as she hovered there, and Syuveil hid his mouth behind his hand, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Belzac!" Shirley shrieked in horror, staring at the uneven plain where her friend, the creature and two Dragons had just been. "Belzac!"

She made a move to go forward, but Zieg flung his good hand out and caught her wrist, trying to stop her. He grimaced as the force of it nearly tore him from Rose's grip, but held tight to the shiny armor, his arm stretched as far as it would go. The Darkness Dragoon struggled to hold onto him in turn, her teeth clenched. "Shirley!" he gritted out.

She twisted toward them, a frightening look of pain and anger on her face, and hissed, "Let go of me!"

"It's too dangerous with those rocks flying around!" he cried back, but Shirley only turned her wrist and yanked her hand away, breathing hysterically fast. However, she didn't get much farther before Syuveil this time grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Let me go!" she screamed, kicking and struggling to break free, tears streaming down her face. Her mind flew to Eremi, and she thought, /Go in there, find him-/ "Belzac, oh Soa, let me go! I have to get him out of there! Belzac! Oh god, Belzac!"

Syuveil shifted his grip as Eremi shot past them, a glow gathering at the middle of the white-silver Dragon's chest, and gasped, "Shirley, don't - if he's still alive - if he's there, blasting it would only-"

Immediately, she called for the Dragon to halt, desperation clawing at her heart. "No," she wailed, "it's not true, it's not true!"

A streak of purple went by instead as Kanzas suddenly approached the field, his eyes wild. "Taranis!" he shouted, drawing to a stop above the place where his vassal Dragon had last been, barely seeming to notice the mass of swirling rocks that were beginning to ricochet off his armor. "You stupid, stupid Giganto, you buried my Dragon! Taranis!"

He reached up to grab handfuls of his own hair, tugging on it and shaking his head frantically. Dark clouds began to gather in the bright morning sky above him, within minutes rumbling with the promise of a storm. The Violet Dragoon, however, didn't seem to notice, continuing to shout toward the remains of the landslide below. Only when bolts of lightning struck down not far from him did he look up again, staring around in confusion before jerking back out of the path of a stray boulder.

The others slowly descended, touching down on top of a high outcropping of rock that had made it through the upheaval mostly unscathed. "What is he doing?" Rose snapped as she let Zieg down, though her face betrayed the anguish she was feeling. "What is going on?" she demanded over a roll of thunder. "I want to know what's happened here!"

The sky opened as though split, and a heavy rain poured down on them. "What happened? What happened?" Kanzas bellowed a moment later, descending on the Darkness Dragoon and coming only inches within grabbing for her throat before Damia's outcry and Zieg moving to intervene made him pull back. He raised his fists as Rose's glare seemed to pass through him and went on, "Belzac tried some spell and screwed up, that's what happened-"

However, he cut himself off, his fingers relaxing and his breath suddenly catching in his chest as he felt a presence through the link of his Dragoon Spirit, felt fear and anger but it was definitely alive-

He didn't have time for another thought as the earth began to churn below, suddenly fountaining upward in a dusty, pebble-filled spray. A figure glowing a bright gold exploded from the ground; as it spun to a halt in midair, blue-violet refractive wings caught the light of the storm, extending lazily outward as he touched down on a large hovering piece of rock.

The hissing corona of golden energy faded away on the wind, a last flare of light taking his armor with it, and Belzac tilted his face toward the sky, falling water pattering on his tanned skin as he blinked in confusion. "Why is it raining?"

A moment later he heard a gasp and felt something collide hard with his chest, forced back a step in order to keep his balance. He looked down, startled, as Shirley leapt toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a cry of joy. "Belzac, oh - I thought you were - I'm so relieved," she got out as he hugged her tightly; they were surrounded by a quick, sharp burst of light as her Dragoon armor faded away.

He pressed his face into her hair, closing his eyes briefly as he reassured her, "I'm all right, really…"

A moment later Damia flew toward them, returning to normal almost before her foot touched the stone. "Belzac!" Whatever had taken hold of her earlier had gone, apparently, much to his relief.

She flung her arms around his waist, sobbing, and he pulled her into his embrace as well with a soft laugh, glancing once over his shoulder as he heard Gleam tug himself free of the earth, snapping his wings open with a loud crack. "It's okay now," he told her, narrowing his eyes slightly as he stared across the valley, rainwater running in rivulets down his face. "It looks like everything's all over."

"Yes, it…" Shirley answered, raising her head to look around as well. The wave of earth had buried the bodies that had littered the valley floor, as well as all the tents and equipment of the formerly tree-lined Wingly encampment, leaving only the strange floating rocks and the misty haze of leftover magic to fill the space. "It certainly is."

A Dragon's roar broke the stillness as Taranis worked himself free as well and soared into the air. Kanzas immediately flew to his side as soon as he came up, though he landed instead of following, letting his armor go. As the other six looked on, rays of sunlight pierced through the storm clouds, dissipating the rain almost at once.

Taranis dived back down from the sky, nearly bowling the Thunder Dragoon over and leaving long furrows as he landed. Straightening again, Kanzas stared up at him silently, and as if chastised Taranis finally lowered his small head, resting it heavily against the Human's shoulder.

"That Dragon has no dignity whatsoever," Rose sighed, sounding close behind, and Belzac glanced back to see that the rock they were standing on had drifted over toward the ledge where the others were, they too no longer in Dragoon form anymore.

It took only a short jump to join them, but no one spoke for a while as they stared across the remains of the battlefield, the morning sun catching on the multicolored magic shimmer in the air. The Dragons had come down to the ground, the rocks not enough to bother them, and were resting themselves, basking in the warmth.

Finally, Zieg asked, "We're glad you're all right, and that that strange thing's gone, but what was it you did just then, Belzac? That wasn't…just a spell."

"He wasn't even transformed," Shirley put in, her voice still a bit strained.

He shook his head, squeezing the healer's shoulder gently as he realized that he still had his arm around her. "I'm not sure," he murmured. "It had something to do with Gleam, though - and my Dragoon Spirit."

"Of course," Syuveil blurted momentarily, "it's simple; you were drawing on your vassal Dragon's power, weren't you? After all, your spirit is the soul of the Grand Dragon you fought, and the vassal is the body of that same Dragon. It stands to reason that you could borrow the Dragon's power to use in ways they might not be able to think of."

Rose nodded at him, reaching up to pluck at her ponytail and pulling free the thin length of cloth that held up her black hair. Wrapping it around the half-healed cut on Zieg's arm, she said, "Isn't that why they sacrificed themselves to us, so that we could guide the Dragons against the Winglies using Human intelligence?"

"And that's why it rained," Damia whispered, her gaze flickering momentarily to Kanzas and Taranis below. Belzac gave her a worried look, unable to forget the way she'd acted when he'd seen her fighting, but he didn't know why that had happened, either, or how to bring it up now that it was over.

Glancing up to meet her eyes, Kanzas left his vassal Dragon with a pat and made a leap toward another floating rock. It fell slightly but rebounded under his weight, and using other rocks he made his way up to the rest of them quickly. "It's mixing Dragon and Wingly magic that did this," he said without preamble as he arrived, gesturing with his chin at their surroundings. "Just one or the other wouldn't make the rocks float."

"Oh?" Rose asked shortly, her voice even. "And how would you know about magic?"

Scowling, he snapped, "From being hit with it in Aglis for twelve years! And don't any of you," he went on, turning his back suddenly, "ask me more."

For a moment, the dark-haired woman's expression softened as she regarded him closely. "As you like," Rose answered quietly. Kanzas gave her a suspicious look, but otherwise didn't react.

As if breaking the tension, the Blue Sea Dragoon quickly pointed at the ground, asking, "But when are all these rocks going to fall again, do you think?"

Syuveil, frowning, bent to pick up a small stone and tossed it out toward another; when they collided, they shot off in entirely different directions, eventually coming to a slow float. "I don't know," he answered her. "It seems like it won't be for quite a while. We certainly tore it up, especially when Belzac killed that…thing."

I'd like to know just what it was that I killed, Belzac thought, and whether we'll have to fight one like it again.

"Did he kill it, really?" Damia shuddered. "It was so huge and scary…"

Kanzas shrugged, rubbing his temples briefly with his fingertips. The sound of Taranis' screams in his mind was hard to forget so quickly. "I think the Dragons would let us know if it was still around," he muttered, receiving slow nods from the others.

"So, what now?" Zieg asked, smiling at Rose as she finished tying the bandage before flexing his arm experimentally. "Now that we've shown the Winglies what we can do, what happens now?"

"We won't be able to do this again, you know," Shirley brought up. At their questioning looks, she clarified, "We won't be able to fight like this, power going everywhere, not if Emperor Diaz's armies are going to be supporting us. Look at what we did here - and I don't think we're as strong as we could be, yet."

Rose sighed, her pale features drawn into a frown. "Even so, I know what we'll have to do. The next step is going to come too soon, thanks to this. Now," she finished in a dark tone, "we must defeat Faust, shoot Flanvel from the sky - before Vellweb is destroyed."

---

Blinking slowly, Commander Leki raised his head, feeling the wind brushing against his skin. As his surroundings came into focus, he found himself being carried through the air, hanging over the shoulder of one of his soldiers.

"Sir," the man said as he stirred, helping him upright; another came to support his other arm, holding him between them as they flew. "Commander, you're hurt, please don't move…"

"We're going to the Southern Palace, sir, to let you recover your strength," the other informed him.

Exhausted by just looking up, the Wingly man couldn't say anything for a good few minutes, watching the greenness of the Southlands passing quickly beneath them. There were maybe twenty soldiers left in this group - the only survivors? "Are we…" Leki began, "are we all…?"

The soldier on his left gave a tight, angry nod. "Yes, sir."

He sighed, letting his head loll forward again. The amulet still hung from his neck, though the gem had gone dull, a large crack splitting it vertically. They'd defeated the creature he'd called, whatever it had been - the magic of a Giganto had defeated the power Melbu Frahma had given him?

Leki winced, and then gasped as a sharp pain exploded into his head, making lights dance before his eyes. This wasn't even the start of it, he knew; his lord was not going to like this at all.