The swifter, much more agile gryphons darted about the dragons, quickly frustrating the lesser one. However, burdened as they were by extra weight, the animals ridden by Rhonin and the others could not maneuver quite so fast as usual. A massive paw with razor talons nearly swiped Falstad and Vereesa, and a wing barely missed clipping Duncan and the dwarf with him. The paladin and his companion continued to fly much too close, as if they sought to take on the one dragon in some bizarre sort of hand-to-hand combat.
With some effort, Molok removed his stormhammer, waving it about and shouting like someone who had just had his hair set on fire. Rhonin hoped that the dwarf would not forget his promise in the heat of battle.
The second dragon came down, unfortunately choosing Falstad and Vereesa for his main target. Falstad urged his gryphon on, but the wings could not beat fast enough with the elf in tow. The huge orc urged his reptilian partner on with murderous cries and mad swings of his monstrous battle-ax.
Rhonin gritted his teeth. He could not just let them perish, especially the ranger.
“Molok! Go after that larger one! We’ve got to help them!”
Eager as he was to obey, the scarred dwarf recalled Rhonin’s earlier demand. “What about your precious mission?”
“Just go!”
A huge grin spread over Molok’s visage. He gave a yell that sent every nerve in the mage’s body into shock, then steered the gryphon toward the dragon.
Behind him, Rhonin readied a spell. They had only moments before the crimson leviathan would reach Vereesa. . . .
Falstad brought his mount around in a sudden arc that startled the dragon rider. The great behemoth soared past, unable to match the maneuverability of its smaller rival.
“Hold tight, wizard!”
Molok’s gryphon dove almost straight down. Trying not to let base fears overwhelm him, Rhonin went over the last segment of his spell. Now if he could manage enough breath to cast it—
The dwarf let out a war cry that brought the attention of the orc. Brow furrowing, the grotesque figure twisted around so as to meet his new foe.
Stormhammer briefly met battle-ax.
A shower of sparks nearly caused the wizard to lose his grip. The gryphon squawked in surprise and pain. Molok nearly toppled from his seat.
Their mount reacted quickest, racing higher into the sky, nearly into the thickening clouds above. Molok readjusted his seating. “By the Aerie! Did you see that? Few weapons or their wielders can stand against a stormhammer! This’ll be a fascinating match!”
“Let me try something first!”
The dwarf’s expression darkened. “Magic? Where’s the honor and courage in that?”
“How can you battle the orc if the dragon won’t let you near again? We got lucky once!”
“All right! So long as you don’t steal the battle!”
Rhonin made no promises, mostly because he hoped to do just that. He stared at the dragon, which had quickly followed them up, muttering the words of power. At the last moment, the wizard glanced at the clouds above.
A single bolt of lightning shot down, striking at the pursuing giant.
It hit the dragon full on, but the effects were not what Rhonin had hoped. The creature’s entire form shimmered from wing tip to wing tip and the beast let out a furious shriek, but the beast did not plummet from the heavens. In fact, even the orc, who no doubt suffered great, did nothing more than slump forward momentarily in his seat.
Disappointed, the wizard had to console himself that at least he had stunned the massive creature. It also occurred to him that now neither he nor Vereesa were in any immediate danger. The dragon struggled just to keep itself aloft.
Rhonin put a hand on Molok’s shoulder. “To the shore! Quickly now!”
“Are you daft, wizard? What about the battle that you just told me to—”
“Now!”
More likely because he wanted to be rid of his exasperating cargo than because he believed in any authority on the mage’s part, Molok reluctantly steered his gryphon away again.
Searching around, the anxious spellcaster sought any sign of Vereesa. Neither she nor Falstad were to be found. Rhonin thought of countermanding his order again, but he knew he had to reach Khaz Modan. Surely the dwarves could handle this pair of monsters. . . .
Surely they could.
Molok’s gryphon had already begun to pull them away from their former adversary. Rhonin again contemplated sending them back.
A vast shadow covered them.
Both man and dwarf looked up in astonishment and consternation.
The second dragon had come up on them while they had been preoccupied.
The gryphon tried to dive out of reach. The brave beast almost made it, but talons ripped through the right wing. The leonine beast roared out its agony and tried desperately to stay aloft. Rhonin looked up to see the maw of the dragon opening. The gargantuan horror intended to swallow them whole.
From behind the dragon soared a second gryphon, Duncan and his dwarf companion. The paladin had positioned himself in an awkward manner and seemed to be trying to direct the dwarf to do something. Rhonin had no idea what the knight intended, only that the dragon would be upon the wizard and Molok before he could cast a suitable spell.
Duncan Senturus leapt.
“Gods and demons!” Molok shouted, for once even the wild dwarf astounded by the courage and insanity of another being.
Only belatedly did Rhonin understand what the paladin sought to do. In a move that would have left anyone else falling to their doom, the skilled knight landed with astonishing accuracy on the neck of the dragon. He clutched the thick neck and adjusted his position even as both the beast and its orc handler finally registered exactly what had happened.
The orc raised his ax and tried to catch Lord Senturus in the back, just barely missing. Duncan took one look at him, then seemed to forget his barbaric opponent from there on. Instead he inched himself forward, avoiding the awkward attempts by the dragon to snap at him.
“He must be mad!” Rhonin shouted.
“No, wizard—he’s a warrior.”
Rhonin did not understand the dwarf’s subdued, respectful tone until he saw Duncan, legs and one arm wrapped tight around the reptilian neck, draw his gleaming blade. Behind the paladin, the orc slowly crawled forward, a murderous red glare in his eyes.
“We’ve got to do something! Get me nearer!” Rhonin demanded.
“Too late, human! There are some epic songs meant to be. . . .”
The dragon did not try to shake Duncan free, no doubt in order to avoid doing the same to its handler. The orc moved with more assurance than the knight, quickly coming within range of a strike.
Duncan sat nearly at the back of the beast’s head. He raised his long sword up, clearly intending to plunge it in at the base, where the spine met the skull.
The orc swung first.
The ax bit into Lord Senturus’s back, cutting through the thinner chain mail the man had chosen for the journey. Duncan did not cry out, but he fell forward, nearly losing his sword. Only at the last did he retain his hold. The knight managed to press the point against the spot intended, but his strength clearly began to give out.
The orc raised his ax again.
Rhonin cast the first spell to come to mind.
A flash of light as intense as the sun burst before the eyes of the orc. With a startled cry, he fell back, losing both his grip on his weapon and his seating. The desperate warrior fumbled for some sort of hold, failed, and dropped over the side of the dragon’s neck, screaming.
The wizard immediately turned his worried gaze back to the paladin—who stared back at him with what Rhonin almost thought a mixture of gratitude and respect. His back a spreading stain of deep red, Duncan yet managed to straighten, lifting his sword hilt up as high as he could.
The dragon, realizing at last that he had no reason to remain still any longer, began to dip.