Dragon of the East - Arc 2, Chapter 15

• Posted by Okan-Zeeus June 25, 2015 - 1,304 views

  Chases-The-Wind

  ~ ~ ~

  Break the fall.

  I tumbled down the cliff face, flailing to grab any handhold I could find. My claws dug into a gap but slipped away with the speed of my descent. Sharp rocks grated against me. I hit a protrusion in the wall and felt a crack in my chest before plummeting through the air and hitting the ground.

  I tried to push myself up on my hands and knees. A sudden surge of pain forced my arms to give out, collapsing me on my side in the dry and stony dirt. A hiss escaped my lungs. I was oblivious to my surroundings, head spinning, feeling only the numb of my injuries. A burning sensation prompted me to touch my leg. It felt wet with blood.

  The healer’s training in me took over and commenced a self-diagnosis.

  Severe chest ache, difficulty breathing… multiple rib fractures… Right arm, minor laceration… Left thigh… major laceration… Right thumb and index finger… dislocated…

  …Pain…

  I heard a voice calling out someone’s name. Chase. Did I know who that was?

  A flood of comprehension crashed over me. Dar-Meena! The metallic ring of the dragon’s roar was dread to my ears. I commanded my broken body to stand, chest twinging in reply. The young thief was at the top of the cliff peering down.

  “Go!! Get out of here!” I cried to her.

  She retreated down the rocks out of sight. I snapped my broken fingers back into place, flashing brief spell castings to dull the hurt.

  In front of me was a mining camp, abandoned. Or razed judging from the host of charred corpses. I was near the summit of a mountain – the horizon dropped off in the distance. There were damaged wood lodgings, crates filled with ore, pickaxes, shovels, and a smelter left cold. Among the ruins of the camp were even older ruins, crumbled columns of decorative stone brick. They reminded me of Bleak Falls Barrow.

  To the dragon sailing high in the sky I hollered, demanding its attention. A single thought directed me: keep the dragon away from Dar-Meena.

  “Down here! Come at me, you monster! Dir nau daar zahkrii, nunon med laat!”

  I startled. Those words… they were not of a language I knew, yet somehow I thought to speak them. They seemed to come from another place beyond my mind. From the knowledge of another being…

  “Zu'u eim hin jur Dovakiin, kriid do Mirmulnir,” the dragon thundered in retort. “Your defeat brings me honor!”

  Sunlight blotted out as the beast spread its wings and slowed to a hard landing dead in front of me. Dust blew into my eyes. In the haze of my vision a bright orange light flickered in the wyrm’s maw. There was a narrow wedge at my right between a stone wall and the cliff face. I ran into it, fire blasting at my back.

  The dragon bent its neck and redirected its breath into the wedge. Straining to bend in such a tight space, I threw a ward behind me. It was not strong enough to hold back the fire. I cast a second ward with my other hand. Together they bought time enough to outlast the flames.

  I pushed through the crevice to the other side with haste, squirming to keep the rock from pressing against my broken ribs. The wall against the cliff curved outward, giving me room to breathe again. Bright light filtered above through the needles of pine trees. I stumbled and hurried around the corner toward a small wooden lodge.

  The dragon Shouted another Thu’um the instant I stepped into its vision.   

  “YOL… TOOR SHUL!!!”

  I jumped clear of the fire and scrambled through a hole broken in the back wall of the small lodge. There were straw beds lying on the floor. Crouching down in the shade, I pulled out my crossbow and grabbed a bolt to load it with, hands trembling. I could not ignore the terrible pain in my chest, nor the blood pouring down my pant leg.

  Stay calm, Okan-Zeeus. My thoughts swam furiously as I planned a course of action. I told myself this battle was like any other, one I could still win. I needed options, a better layout of the grounds, avenues for attack. It was kill or die.

  “Tsarkk xhe nohn'daa… Ophik tsaxeh'thu…” I hissed, cranking back the crossbow’s loading lever.

  There was a loud crash overhead as the dragon smashed its tail through the top half of the lodge. A shower of wood rained over me. I hurled myself out of the ruined building into the sun and drew Xehtasken with my free hand. A leaning column of brick stood nearby. I put it between myself and the dragon.

  Four thumping steps I counted before deeming the wyrm near enough. I spun out of cover, crossbow aimed. The bolt released and impaled above the dragon’s eye. My aim was off by the thin of a feather, but the beast still flinched. I dashed forward and streaked Xehtasken across its scaly neck. My cut was shallow. The dragon recoiled with a growl and rose off the ground with a strong wing stroke. I breathed in the sudden dust cloud and doubled over, nearly choking on the pain of a simple cough.

  The orange wyrm eased into a bank and flew around the mining camp. I stood in the open, burnt tufts of grass beneath my heels, and drew a better mental map of the camp. My sights set on the wall I had wedged myself behind.

  It looked almost identical to the wall in Bleak Falls Barrow, the one that gave me the power to Shout. I took a step closer and heard it, that same strange rhythm, pulsing from a word in the wall, beckoning me to come near.

  My odds against the dragon were bleak at best. The battle at Whiterun had been a very different scenario. I killed that dragon with the assistance of a city’s worth of armed combatants. The fire from this one told me it was stronger, and I was being forced to fight it while wounded. Completely alone.

  If that wall promised another power I could use… I wanted it.

  The dragon dove at me. Two wards were needed to block its swath of flame as it passed over. I was spending too much Magicka too quickly. The energy stems from one’s soul and is comparable to fatigue. One must use it for a time then wait until the body has rested and replenished its supply. Those who train in magic can increase their pool of magicka in ways similar to physical conditioning. Magically speaking, I was not fit.

  I ran at a speed within the limits of my injuries. A word singled out on the stone wall and began to glow. The dragon spun and descended toward me, wings outstretched and talons opened to seize its prey. I jumped aside before it could grab me and retaliated with a sword strike to its foot. The dragon flew out toward the morning horizon. As I watched it, I noted a view of the ocean. This mining camp was at an immensely high elevation. If that dragon had seized me and carried me over the edge…

  I ran faster. My vision blurred and darkened the nearer I came to the wall. Soon the glowing word was all that remained. It imprinted in my mind’s eye. I acquired my second word. I could feel it within me, a natural sensation, no different this time than the first.

  “Laas…” I whispered to myself.

  The word was without connotation. The dragon I slew had no knowledge of it.

  It was useless to me.

  The dragon landed. I stumbled and swore. My sight was still recovering.

  Move! Find cover!

  Relying on my mental map to see, I got away before the dragon could Shout and found myself wedged again into the crevice behind the wall. I felt like a rodent scurrying back into its knothole and growled at my foolishness.

  This would have been the moment to heal my injuries if I had the desire. And I certainly did. The promise of relief was almost too great a temptation.

  But I held myself back. I could not afford to spend what magicka I had left. There remained the dragon’s breath to consider. Wards and healing drew from the same pool. If I healed my wounds only to face the wyrm’s fire without defense, it would not matter how healthy I was. Either way, my ribs would have to stay broken. Restoration spells do not mend wounds themselves. They isolate injuries and bolster the body’s natural healing process. A cut that will heal in a week conventionally can be closed in minutes magically.

  Broken bones, however, take months to mend on their own. Even with magic, my ribs would need at least several days to heal.

  If my chest bones were struck again and shattered, the fragments would puncture my lungs or lodge into vital organs. Only a master of restoration could save me from that. I was barely an apprentice.

  If only I hadn’t fallen…!  

  As I leaned against the cold stone wall, the world became quiet. The dragon did not move. It waited patiently for me to appear from my hiding place. Panting heavily, I shut my eyes and indulged myself, drinking in the cool moment of respite. This dragon shows mercy, I thought. It hurt even to breathe. I needed a way to kill the beast quickly. More importantly, I needed a safe way to escape the crevice.

  I realized I had the means to do both at once.

  My invisibility potion. The one I used against the necromancer, concocted from Nirnroot and vampire dust. If the dragon was waiting me out, I could approach it unseen and pierce Xehtasken into its skull. I could kill the beast with stealth. A fool’s ploy yet again, but the last one succeeded. I had to try. It was my best chance to prevail.

  I quietly ripped off my untorn pant leg and wrapped it around the gash on my thigh, securing it tightly with a knot. Invisibility would not stop me from leaving a blood trail. The cloth would soak up the wound. I scraped my boots in the gravel, making sure there was nothing on them that would stain my tracks. The rest would depend on footwork and balance.

  Staring into the dark fluid of the potion in its vial, I raised the glass to my snout and swallowed all that was left. My vision became devoid of color, a sign that the effect had taken hold. I knew my river’s course.

  Kill… or die…

  The dragon still waited. I stepped out from behind the wall and began my approach, footfalls silent but swift. The potion would last less than a minute. Casting a spell would cancel the effect, as would contact with the dragon. I’d become visible upon the moment of my strike. I had to position myself just so.

  Kill or die…                                                   

  The dragon craned its head and scanned the mining camp. It could not detect my presence drawing near. The sensation of sneaking toward my target evoked memories of countless dead drops, unwary souls snuffed in the dead of night, silence spilling from their throats. Yet this would be unlike all the others.

  Kill or die.

  Half-way there. I drew Xehtasken without making a sound, a primal desire to slay the dragon rising in me. This is no human, no Saxhleel. This is a kill worthy of me. A true foe. An equal. These were my impressions, though I knew not where they came from. What was it about fighting dragons that stirred me?

  Kill…                                                                                                                                      

  The wyrm closed its eyes and spoke a Thu’um.                                         

  “Laas… Yah Nir!”

  When it opened them again, a red wisp-like glow emanated from the sockets. Deliberately it bent its stare in my direction, puffing out a plumb of smoke from its nostrils. I shuddered. It was not glancing at the cliff.

  The dragon could see me.                                                         

  “No!!” I cried as I thrust out my hands, casting dual wards against the dragon’s blazing breath. I fell to a knee. The heat of the flames reached my scales, telling me what lied on the other side of my aetherial shields. As the dragon’s Shout subsided, my magicka was nearly drained. Another Thu’um meant death.

  I saw all the places I couldn’t flee. I saw everywhere I couldn’t run. Escape was through the fire. Words hollered in my head:

  Find a way! Kill or die!!

  I clutched Xehtasken and charged. The dragon saw how weakened I was. To it, these were my final moments. They would decide everything. The beast tried to boulder me over with a swing of its head. I dodged and slashed. Blood speckled the dirt. With a whirl of its body, it tried to swipe me with its tail. I vaulted over and stabbed. More blood.

  Pierce its skull! Hurry! The pain was becoming worse. I ducked beneath the crook of the dragon’s wing and sprang up beside its eye. The wyrm… chuckled. It sounded ominous coming from a voice so deep. I circle strafed, putting the sun at my back, and welled up a Shout. One last surprise.

  “FUS!!!”

  A clap of force shot from my mouth. It hit the monster head on…

  …like a harmless gentle breeze. The dragon sneered.

  “FUS… RO DAH!!!”

  Its Thu’um hurled forth and slammed into me. I was lifted off my feet with terrible velocity, skidding across the dirt on my back, stopping just shy of the rocks that dropped off the mountain’s edge. I clutched my chest, gasping in agony. Xehtasken laid an arm’s length away. I rolled onto my side and stretched out to grasp it. Plodding steps from a giant creature shook the ground.

  I felt my claws wrap around the sword’s leather handle. Whipping onto my back again, I pointed my blade at the dragon… looming closer …

  My eyes dilated. My lungs were short of breath. Seconds became minutes. I kept my sword raised, tried to think. What could I do? What did I have left?

  The answer was nothing. I had nothing left.

  I was knocked down, wounded and without defense. The wyrm would burn me alive as soon as my muscles twitched. Two choices remained: I could die in flames or throw myself off the mountain. The result was the same.

  “YOL….”

  The victor had been decided. I challenged the dragon and lost.

  “…TOOR–”

  An arrow struck its eye. The monster recoiled, interrupting its Shout, and bellowed a rancorous roar. A chill shivered down my back. I turned and looked, hoping against all hope that it wasn’t…

  Dar-Meena. Perched on a slope of bluffs beyond, she stood with her bow raised.

  Why!? Why did she come here!?

  That fool girl. I had already lost. I couldn’t kill the dragon. I couldn’t protect her.

  Xhuth!! I should have left her in Riften! This is all my fault!!

  Those timeless words, spoken to me so long ago…

  A bringer of death has no place among the living! Why did I involve her!?

  Everywhere I go, death has always followed…

  Always.

  Leifnaar was dead. Mahei-Ru was dead. Selvia, dead.  Achel, dead. Calls-From-Afar, dead. Kurash, dead. Roland, dead. Ixtha-Kai, Veethei, Xal-Dus, Asska. Dead, dead, dead, dead.

  Dan-Xu.

  Dead.

  Milah.

  Dead.

  All dead because of me. Because I killed them. Because I couldn’t save them.

  And now…!

  Dar-Meena.

  …No…

  I clenched my teeth.

  No!

  I was still breathing. I still had my life. The dragon hadn’t won. Not yet.

  NO!!!

  I blocked out my senses and shot to my feet, gripping Xehtasken, pouring all that was left of me into one last dead rush. I feared no pain. I consigned my death. There was only one goal: win. Nothing else mattered.

  I would not depart the world a killer and a failure.

  I will not let her die!!

  The dragon saw me running and flexed its jowl to Shout. I raised my arm to shield my eyes. Fire cascaded. I did not stop, even as the flames engulfed me and my whole body screamed.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The rules behind healing spells are my creation. I needed a plausible way to explain how they functioned without making them too OP. In essence, healing spells only augment the body’s existing processes. The more fatal the wound, the harder it is to heal. As a side note, age also affects healing spells. An older individual whosw body is in poor shape will get less out of a healing spell than someone younger and healthier. Otherwise, if you think about it, healing spells could be used to keep a person alive indefinitely.

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