Broadswords - 45. The Battle, Part One

Broadswords

Chapter Forty-Five
The Battle, Part One

It was quickly clear to Elan how Von's death had occurred. These dragons were unlike any he'd ever encountered. He was the best slayer in Jhirdyr, and though there were no world rankings, he was sure he was one of the best across all of the continents. Still, even his most epic slays weren't as intense as the battle he was part of now. He knew that the other two slayers and his squire would absolutely be in agreeance.

The unrestrained power Elsior undoubtedly had was mimicked in his creations. The beasts were ferocious and untamed. Were their existence not horrendous, it would almost be impressive. The fact that Elsior was able to bring such monstrosities to life was unheard of. As far as Elan was aware, there had never been an example of man-made dragons before. And there was no easing in. These things were intense from the get-go.

An hour had already passed since he'd arrived, and the battle was still going strong. Though young, the dragons seemed to have an immense amount of stamina. The same could hardly be said about the rest of them. Elan was already feeling worn out. While he'd had several encounters with dragons in the past that had surpassed that length of time, this one was different. There were two. They were taking on four humans. They weren't slowing in the slightest.

On top of all of that, his muscles weren't where they normally were. The recovery time he'd had in the castle was evidently not enough time to bring him back to one hundred percent. He was far more capable than he'd been even a week ago, of course, but it still wasn't his norm. And the consistency of the flames that surrounded them was not doing anything to help the matter.

The fire had begun spreading outward, and he couldn't help but think that there might no longer be a wood there by the time everything was said and done. It was too far gone to control at that point, even if the battle miraculously ended soon. Any kind of fire would be devastating to a wooded area such as this, but dragonfire was much more rampant.

A third dragon had been standing at bay at the mouth of the cave the entire time. Why it hadn't joined in, Elan couldn't be sure. Maybe Elsior hadn't deemed it necessary yet. Which didn't make sense. If Elan wanted to wipe a slew of dragonslayers out, he'd ensure he was using everything at his disposal. But Elan was far from an Elsior.

He'd briefly considered facing that one, once he'd realized it was there. But it didn't seem to be doing much, and Tayrick could clearly use the help. So he left it alone, and it did the same to them. It didn't make sense, but he wasn't going to overthink it. There wasn't much time for thoughts, anyway.

The dragon he and Tayrick were up against was lithe. It stamped its feet constantly, several times causing the both of them to dart one way or the other. Its neck and tail were like tree branches in a windstorm; they swayed to and fro without warning and on several occasions swung out, almost knocking the slayers to the ground.

With sweat pouring out of him like rainwater, and a headache rapidly forming at his temples, Elan was fearing that he didn't have a whole lot left in him. But he wouldn't give up. It wasn't in his nature, nor would he ever stop fighting for his kingdom. He'd continue on until there wasn't an ounce of strength left in his body. And even then, he couldn't be sure that he'd stop.

He wasn't particularly used to fighting alongside other slayers, but he and Tayrick had found a rhythm that was remarkable. They had very similar styles. Where Elan would bob, Tayrick would weave, and they were at the very least keeping the dragon on its toes. Tayrick had certainly earned his position of second-ranked slayer, and Elan was glad he was there. Where the other five were, he couldn't be sure. And he was not happy in the slightest that they still hadn't arrived. He'd stressed the severity of the situation very hard, and their lack of dedication had not gone unnoticed.

There they were, three slayers and a squire, with another dead slayer in their midst, fighting what could be an end-all-be-all battle. And five more that should have been there simply weren't.

He cursed under his breath as the dragon lunged forth, narrowly missing his shoulder. He was thinking too much about the other slayers and it wasn't helping his concentration. His concern over their whereabouts was doing nothing to help him in the current situation. He forced the thoughts out of his mind. They'd get there when they got there. And until then, he could put forth nothing but what he always did: his best.

As the dragon drew back, Elan swung his blade upward, grazing the surface enough that several scales were shaved from its neck. He wouldn't have thought it possible, as thus far the scales had seemed rather tough to penetrate. But still, he'd managed to clear off a patch about six inches in length.

The dragon didn't seem as if it noticed much, but that could have been partially as a result of its feral nature. It didn't change its demeanor. But at least Elan knew that there was more to find out about how to defeat this thing. He had potentially uncovered a weak spot.

He vaguely heard a clamoring of people joining the battlegrounds, but he didn't turn around. He'd so narrowly avoided a serious injury the last time he'd let himself lose focus that he wasn't about to make the same mistake again. He could only hope it was more of the slayers, but he wasn't about to confirm his expectations. He reserved all of his attention for the dragon.

With another dart forward, the monstrosity once again attempted to ensnare Elan in its jaws. But he was prepared this time, and he once again lifted his sword with his steady arms as it pulled back into position. He'd found a rhythm. Just as he'd done the previous time, he shed another patch of scales from its neck, just above the other one, expanding the unprotected area. He was certainly hoping that the increasing amount of bare flesh he was uncovering would allow for a killshot.

Before he could put too much more thought into it, though, he saw someone running forward in his peripheral vision. It was one of the lower-ranked slayers, one of the ones whose name he couldn't remember. The short, rather lean man was charging forth like a bat out of hell. He held his sword straight out in front of him, much like he was entering a joust.

But the less-experienced slayer was clearly overzealous in his endeavor. It was a risky move, and it didn't pay off. The dragon that Elan and Tayrick were squaring off against immediately saw an opportunity and took it. In seconds, the dragon had averted its attention away from Elan and Tayrick and snapped the foolish slayer up in its mouth. He was surely dead on impact, and it was not a pleasant sight.

But there was no time to allow grievances or mourning. There was nothing that could be done for the poor fellow now, and Elan had to take advantage of the opportunity that had been granted as a result of the unintentional sacrifice.

As the dragon was distracted by its easy prey, its attention turned to the side, it gave clear access to its recently scaled neck. Without hesitation, Elan leapt into the air despite his rapidly deteriorating energy. His sword entered the bare patch like a butter knife being dropped into a glass of water. As he fell back toward the ground, gravity did most of the work. The dragon's neck was half-severed as a result, practically decapitating it. After a few slow gurgles emerged from its throat, it was dead.

Despite the various noises around him – the uproar of the conflagration about them, the snaps and snarls of the dragon that Daegon and Lana were still up against, and the various shouts of everyone involved – Elan could hear clearly the guttural howl that escaped Elsior's own throat. Another of his creations had been destroyed, and he was not happy.

Immediately, the dragon that had been motionless near the cave entrance bounded forward. It stopped next to its dead sibling, but did not acknowledge it. All of its attention was on Elan and Tayrick. It spat dragonfire at them in bursts, causing them to once again have to keep light on their feet. One of the recently arrived slayers joined them, covering Tayrick's left.

It was Feodoro, the fifth-ranked. The cocky bastard should have been there an hour ago. Elan wasn't thrilled with the addition of the man at their new dragon, especially considering this one seemed much more intense than the previous one. Feodoro would only get in the way. But he said nothing. He couldn't. They truly did need every person they could gather. Thankfully he'd chosen to stand on Tayrick's left side, whereas Elan was on his right. He needed the mobility and would not have been amused had he been sandwiched between the two of them.

Another dragon had emerged, this one too standing immobile at the mouth of the cave. Elan was still flummoxed at what Elsior was doing. Perhaps not all of the dragons had fully emerged, but once again he was keeping one at bay. But why? There didn't seem to be rhyme or reason to it. He could have easily had each dragon join the battle as it left the cave. The slayers would be no match for that many attackers.

But it was in their benefit. The longer they had to fight them one at a time, the more they'd have a chance to slay. Hopefully that would be all of them. The thought of one dragon attacking the kingdom was worrisome enough, but if multiples were to do so… it was a harrowing concept. There would be no coming back from that.

The new dragon seemed much more capable than the last. It moved much more frequently and with less consistency. While Elan had found a pattern of movements with the previous one, he wasn't having the same luck this time around.

He was becoming more and more worn out as the battle raged on. He tried to keep his movements minimal, but it wasn't easy. He had to rely a little more on Tayrick and Feodoro than he'd care to, but he didn't have much of a choice. This was not a normal slay by any means, and he couldn't let his pride get the best of him.

Suddenly, from somewhere near the other active dragon, a gut-wrenching scream erupted across the clearing. The sound was undeniable. It could only mean one thing. Another slayer had fallen victim to the dragons. It was clearly a male's voice, so he knew it wasn't Lana. And not that any death would have been less devastating than another, but he silently prayed that it wasn't Daegon.

But the loss was extremely foreboding. In less than two hours, these dragons had downed three slayers. Meaning only six slayers remained, plus Lana. And they'd only managed to slay two dragons. And while the remaining dragons were still full of life, the humans were weakening by the second. The odds were not bright.

Despite the odds, none of them would give up. This was who they were. This is what they did. They were sworn to protect their kingdom, and that's what they were doing. Nothing would prevent that. At least, Elan could only hope that the rest of them had the same mentality as he.

He stared their dragon in its eyes. The deadness that gazed back enraged him. These things didn't even have souls. They were basically evil embodied. Somehow, it reenergized him. Adrenaline coursed through him. These bastards weren't going to win. Not as long as he was still standing.