Chapter 42

Horde-breaker

As the battle at the village had come to its conclusion, the battle on the fields had raged for quite some time.

The roars, howls and sounds of battle drowning out the rumbling thunder of the storm clouds in the skies above.

A mighty swing from Tyroth's blade cleaved three gnolls at once, and another four with the following slash, and even after hundreds of gnolls had fallen to him and the two dragons, there were still hundreds more to go.

Despite the dragons' best efforts, the gnolls did not let up, spurred on by their apparent leader, they fought with a single purpose; the death of their foes, no matter the cost.

Lokdrogyol and Thaenia were constantly bombarded by attacks from every angle, numerous arrows and spears littered their bodies as more and more injuries were added by the second.

Their claws rent flesh, their jaws snapped bones, tails crushed anything that got caught, and flames consumed what remained and more.

But all their wounds were all starting to add up, and every drop of blood lost cut their time in the mortal realm ever shorter.

Lokdrogyol locked his jaws over the head and torso of a troll, lifting it up and shaking it violently as he unleashed his flames upon the beast, burning it to a crisp.

It was with a deep breath that the dragon tossed aside the remains, his form flickering before starting to fade.

"My time is at an end, Dragonborn…" he said in loud voice. "Show these vermin why dragons rule supreme!"

With that, Lokdrogyol finally disappeared, much to the confusion of the gnolls that were fighting him.

"Best of luck, my champion…" Thaenia called out, as she too began to fade away into nothingness.

Soon, Tyroth was all alone against the remaining horde, still maybe four hundred strong, and that became evident very quickly, as now there was only one target left for the horde to focus on, and they did so with a nearly fanatic zeal.

Like water rushing to the centre of a whirlpool, the gnolls and their allies converged upon the last dragon, claws, fangs, and weapons of all kind hungering to taste his flesh.

Punching one gnoll so hard that the head was torn off, Tyroth swatted aside a few more with a swipe of his tail, while his sword cut down several more, and his fire breath burned more still, followed by kicking and punching and slashing foe after foe, all while they swarmed him like insects.

Arrows and javelins were launched from all around him, pelting him nearly constantly as those closest kept biting, clawing, cutting, and striking him.

For every hit the gnolls scored, several of them died, and for everyone that died, several more had their attacks find their mark. Slowly but steadily, despite Tyroth possessing superior strength and healing ability, they were overwhelming him, hitting him with bug bites until they would wear him out.

Tyroth knew that he should retreat, fall back to Mutopia to catch his breath, but there were still far too many gnolls left, he had to push himself just a little longer, the lives of everyone could depend on that.

His thoughts were interrupted when a thrown javelin pierced his thigh, followed nearly instantly by a spear being driven into his back. An axe found its mark as it embedded itself in his chest.

Claws raked his back as gnolls jumped onto it and sunk their teeth into his flesh.

More and more gnolls piled onto Tyroth, weighing him down with sheer numbers and mass. Even as he was forced onto his knees, and subsequently all four, he kept trying to fight them off, to break free, but he found no leverage to use, and soon, he was buried underneath dozens upon dozens of gnolls.

With triumphant cackling roars and howls at their prey, the gnolls started feasting, the pile turning into a writhing mass of fur and flesh.

But then they suddenly stopped.

Faint beams of light started shining through the gaps, followed by small trails of smoke.

Without further warning, there was a massive explosion.

A fireball the size of a large house and almost as bright as the sun eradicated nearly a hundred gnolls in an instant, sending them flying high into the air and letting their remains fall back to the ground as ashes.

In the centre, Tyroth rose to one knee, breathing heavily as he did so. His body was covered in wounds, wounds that were not healing as fast as they used to, the constant attacks having taken their toll on even his powerful healing ability.

Using Ryujin as a crutch, Tyroth pushed himself back up onto both feet. His wings had had their membranes shredded, and would require more time to heal, so there was no flying away

He let his gaze sweep across the entire horde, which were keeping their distance at the moment, yet were eager to resume their attack.

It was as if nothing could deter them.

But neither would they deter him.

"Come then, cretins!" he yelled, gripping his sword tightly. "Be it you, raiders, dinosaurs, undead, or the gods themselves, I will not yield!"

Bursting into a sprint, he made a bee-line towards the gnolls in the direction of Mutopia, roaring as he did so.

"Krongrah uv Valhalla!"

As soon as he took his first step, the entire horde descended upon him once again, and even as they faced fierce resistance from the dragon, they did not let up.

Tyroth cleaved four gnolls with a single sideways slash, and another five as he swung his sword the other way, fire erupting from the blade as he brought it down on a troll, slicing it in half from burning top to bottom.

Gathering his strength, his powerful legs launched him several meters into the air, landing deeper in the horde, crushing a couple of witherlings under his feet, only to seconds later unleash a strong swing in a full revolution, sending blood, guts, gore, and entire torsos flying in every direction.

He took a few more swings and breathed fire before jumping again, this time landing with a burning fist colliding with the head of an unfortunate gnoll, killing it instantly, following up with another breath attack, this one lasting nearly ten seconds as he let the flames consume everything around him.

Then he jumped again. He had to, he couldn't afford to stand still long enough for them to be able to hit him. They would still come to him regardless, but the longer he could avoid getting hurt again, the more he would be able to heal.

He just hoped that he still had the stamina to keep it up long enough to achieve something, be it killing enough of the gnolls for them to become manageable, or his wings to heal enough to be able to fly again.

But his hopes were cut short, as a short series of barks was heard just before he jumped again, and nearly as soon as he was airborne, he was again pelted by projectiles. The gnoll leader had figured out the strategy, and whenever Tyroth would try to jump, the gnolls would attack him mid-jump.

Just before landing, an arrow pierced his wrist, causing him to lose his grip on Ryujin, dropping it among the gnolls. Tyroth cursed internally as he quickly yanked out any arrow he could before starting to punch, kick and even bite his foes. With or without his trusted weapon, he would still fight.

It was now clear to him that the larger gnoll was the true leader of the horde, being able to focus them into an even deadlier force than they normally were, not to mention that it was seemingly able to strategise, at least to some extent. Even as Tyroth crushed the chest of one gnoll with a well aimed punch, and stomped on the head of one that had been knocked over, the dragon kept his eyes open for this leader, as it was a target of highest priority.

As the fight raged on, one of the gnolls found and picked up Tyroth's sword, briefly comparing the massive blade to its own small, rusty dagger, and instantly decided to swap.

Grabbing the sword by the handle with both hands, it lifted it up and cackled in glee.
But, its luck had just run dry.

The blade of the sword glowed red and burst into flames, and smoke started to rise from the gnoll's hands as they were burnt by the handle, causing the gnoll to yelp in pain and let go of the weapon.

Much to its surprise, the sword did not fall to the ground again, instead it hovered in the air, burning, only to suddenly and on its own, decapitate the gnoll with a single slash.

Before the head had even hit the ground, Ryujin literally flew into battle, skewering some gnolls in its path, only to have their remains flung into the others every time that Ryujin took another swipe against more gnolls, moving in a circular pattern around Tyroth as if trying to stem the flow of enemies for him.

Backhanding a few gnolls, Tyroth used his other hand to grab one by the head and throw it with all his might into the others, knocking down a good dozen or so like bowling pins.

Feeling claws and blades cut him across his back, Tyroth spun around, striking several with his tail as he gathered fire in his hands and threw it at them. The projectiles exploded upon impact, killing several gnolls each and injuring more nearby.

Several more fireballs were thrown, some at foes nearby, and others trailed in an arch through the air before landing amidst the more distant forces.

More gnolls tried to attack him while his back was turned towards them, and as fast as Tyroth was, he couldn't keep his back clear all the time, not against these kinds of numbers. But those gnolls were quickly cut down by the sentient blade, coming to its owner's aid just in the nick of time.

With that short opening, Tyroth grabbed two of the gnolls by their legs, pulling them off their feet and used them as improvised bludgeons as he continued fighting. While the two gnolls did flail violently and yell and yelp incoherently in protest, that stopped very shortly, after only a handful of swings.

As effective as the… weapons were, they didn't last for very long. It didn't take more than a few dozen strikes before they started falling apart, by way of the legs they were held by separating from the rest of their badly mangled bodies.

As soon as the 'gnoll-weapons' were… spent, Tyroth tossed the remains aside and grabbed a new pair, all while he and his trusted sword made their way towards the leader of the horde.

Watching from afar, the large gnoll watched the dragon tear through its forces, and grinned.

Its silver grey fur and rusted breastplate were covered in bloodstains that would never wash out, numerous smaller bones were braided into the fur around its head. In its hand, it held its weapon of choice, a flail, but not any ordinary flail.

The handle was made out of various bones tied together with black, sinewy strings, with three sets of those very strings replacing the chains used in normal flails, each set reaching six feet in length and ending in a human skull with dozens of spikes, and red, glowing eye sockets from which long trails of black smoke rose.

Much like the weapon was no ordinary weapon, this was no ordinary gnoll, but a flind. A gnoll of great power that had been blessed by their demonic creator, Yeenoghu, and transformed into a creature more demon than beast, a mighty leader that leads its horde from the front.

However, after the initial attack of Tyroth and the other dragons, the flind had erred on the side of caution, observing them from a distance even as it sent a portion of its forces ahead to their next target.

Gnolls were not proud or honourable creatures. They didn't seek strong or worthy foes to fight.

They wanted weak prey, ripe for the slaughter.

And Tyroth had proven himself anything but weak, something that they would have left alone. But their great numbers gave them great confidence, and while their numbers had dwindled by now, the flind could see that the last dragon was tiring.

Having restrained itself so far, it was now time to move in for the kill, and it did so with glee, howling and swinging its three-headed flail above it.

Tearing the head off of one gnoll that he had caught, Tyroth breathed more fire all around him, but his flames were quickly growing weaker, as both his supply of flammable gases and mana were running low, the latter one dangerously so. Soon, all he would have left was his physical strength, and even that was nearing its limit.

Then he heard a howling, cackling laughter, one that stood out among all the other sounds of gnolls and battle, and it was coming right towards him.

He turned around just in time to see the flind swing at him with its flail, just barely avoiding the three skulls as they passed him with only millimetres to spare, far too close for Tyroth's taste, and more than close enough for him to smell the abyssal demon magic within the weapon.
It was far more dangerous than it looked.

Quickly throwing out his arms to the sides to knock away any nearby gnolls, Tyroth took a deep breath laced with his own mana, then he unleashed it.

"Yol Dovah Rein!" he roared as a massive torrent of fire erupted from his mouth, the thick beam of concentrated flames cutting its way through the gnoll forces like a hot knife through butter, killing at least fifty in an instant.

But not the flind, for it had managed to jump away at the last second, only burning the tips of its fur as the attack passed it by.

As Tyroth was breathing heavily after the attack, the flind thought it had an opening, when in fact the opposite was true, and Ryujin came at it like an arrow.

Again, the flind managed to jump out of the way, but not without receiving a cut through its breastplate, a cut that managed to draw blood underneath the armour.

With the living sword coming back for another attack, the flind countered by grabbing a nearby gnoll and, despite the smaller beast's complaints, tossed it at Ryujin. The blade easily cut the living projectile in half without missing a beat, but that still gave the flind enough time to counter attack.

All three skulls of the flail struck the broadside of the sword with a collective and resounding clang that sent Ryujin tumbling to the ground, the red glow fading as it became inert.

A pair of strong hands quickly picked up the sword, and as he held it, Tyroth felt how Ryujin's energy was spent, the last hit having taken its toll on the sword. But magic or no magic, Ryujin was still a formidable weapon, especially in Tyroth's hands.

With a quick swing, Tyroth cleared his immediate surroundings of gnolls, setting his eyes on the flind and growling loudly.

The flind might be a strong foe, but it was far from the strongest Tyroth had faced, and had he been at peak condition it would not have lasted ten seconds against him.

But things were different now.

After all the fighting, all the killing, Tyroth was exhausted, the sheer numbers of the horde having worn him down. His muscles groaned, his wounds ached and throbbed with pain, and his lungs gasped for oxygen, all while his mana was so low that he would die if he tried to use it again.

All that kept him going was his own willpower.

More gnolls came at him from every side even as the flind swung its flail, which Tyroth deflected with a swing of his sword, batting away the three skulls before following up with cutting down a handful of gnolls on one side and skewering one and punching another on the other side.

But they were too many. Even with how many that had died, they were still too many.

As the flind pulled back its flail for an attack, Tyroth saw a chance and took it, aiming to decapitate the beast, but only managed to cut off one of its ears as if ducked beneath the attack.

Not even slowing down, the flind took its swing, the smoke trailing behind the skulls like vicious shadows. Quickly pulling his sword back, Tyroth tried to stop the attack by severing the strings of the flail, but despite the sharpness of Ryujin and the force behind the slash, the thick strings were unharmed. They merely bent as the razor edge struck them, folding from the force and altering the path of the skulls, the tips of the spikes on them grazing Tyroth's chest.

Instantly, Tyroth felt the demonic power wash over him, just from the scratches, and it was enough to make him recoil, at which point two gnolls attacked him from the back, their weapons leaving deep gashes in his flesh.

He quickly spun around to fend them off and they died in a matter of seconds, but as soon as Tyroth turned back to the flind, he was hit by a full force blow from the flail, pushing him backwards and falling to his knees.

The pain was excruciating, and threefold. It was as if a part of his soul had been hit as well, his muscles refused to move no matter how hard he tried, all while a swirling cacophony of intrusive thoughts burned in his mind. Thoughts of extreme hatred and fury, an overwhelming need to kill something, anything, except the flind.

More gnolls quickly jumped at the chance to attack an incapacitated foe, but a single bark from the flind changed that, and instead nearly two dozen gnolls grabbed on to Tyroth's limbs, holding him firmly in place.

Despite being paralysed from the blow he had taken, Tyroth managed, with great difficulty, to raise his head and lock eyes with the flind, staring ever defiantly even as the great beast swung its weapon over its head, cackling like the hyenas it descended from as it was building up momentum for a killing blow, taking great pleasure in it all.

Thunder rumbled overhead and lighting cracked.

Then, there was a lighting bolt that nearly split earth and sky.

With near light speed, it shot down from the clouds, striking Tyroth and the gnolls holding him with a deafening crack and blinding flash.

The flind was thrown several metres backwards, landing on its back, while the gnolls that had held Tyroth had been completely obliterated.

Flames raged and electricity arced and crackled all over the dragon's body as he stood back up, his eyes shining white. He threw his head backwards and let out a primal roar that almost shook the world as spectral figures appeared behind him.

The spirits were of dozens of dragons, including Thaenia and Lokdrogyol, but also a giant of a man, with broad shoulders, a thick beard, and raised above his head was a mighty hammer.

This was Thor.

The fire and electricity raged even stronger around Tyroth's body, and he began floating upwards, to a height of fifty metres. Then he spoke with a thunderous voice.

"Luft Fin Bah Do Fin Laat Vahlok Dovah!"

Taking a very deep breath, he inhaled every ounce of the fire and electricity around him, absorbing every flame on the battlefield and drawing lighting from the very sky above him. The very air around him vibrated and rippled with raw power.

"Qo Yolos Dovah... REIN!"

The collected elements were unleashed in a breath attack of unmatched power and devastation, a white-hot beam of plasma, five metres in diameter, with the head of a roaring dragon at the front, accompanied by a deafening roar of the king of all beasts.

The flind had no chance to avoid the attack, and was subsequently erased from existence, consumed by the attack as it carved a massive trench through the rock and soil beneath it simply by proximity.

Like a serpent of lighting, the attack turned and coiled and snaked its way through the last remnants of the horde. They tried to escape its fury, tried to flee the battle, but they stood no chance against the homing attack, which possessed so much force that it turned the gnolls and trolls into ashes just by being near them.

Finally, the last of the gnolls had been slayed, and the attack turned skywards, still roaring as it climbed higher and higher, until it finally ebbed and faded.

Breathing heavily, Tyroth looked upon the destruction he had left in his wake, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion from the battle. Unable to keep them open any longer, he was met with darkness as he fell from the air unconscious.

Plummeting to the ground beneath him, he came to a slow and soft stop as a pair of large spectral arms caught and cushioned his fall, gently lowering him to the ground before vanishing, leaving only a voice upon the wind.

"Well fought, brave warrior. The gates of Valhalla will always be open for you, this I swear."

Phew, that was a tough chapter to make. Hope you all think it was worth it.
For now, though, it seems that the threat has ended, but at what cost? Stay tuned for that and more.

Just a short list of all the sentences in Dragon translated for you.
Krongrah uv Valhalla!: Victory or Valhalla!
Yol Dovah Rein: Fire Dragon Roar
Qo Yolos Dovah Rein: Lighting Flame Dragon Roar
Luft Fin Bah Do Fin Laat Vahlok Dovah: Face the wrath of the last guardian dragon.