Several witches converged on them in glee, their hands raised and spells pinging against his ward.
Can you shift? Nick asked.
Too much pain, Justin replied. I can hold the ward though, while you burn the bitches.
Gladly.
Nick passed the spell to his friend, and then gathered his magic. His beast’s raw fire was just what it seemed to be, straight out phosphorus set alight by a click of his teeth sparking it. Justin’s was the same. However, each of them also had magical fire. Justin was an ice dragon, his magical flame bright blue, freezing as well as burning at the same time.
Nick was a fire dragon, and he didn’t just cast flames, he cast hellfire. There wasn’t a thing on the planet that could stop it nor survive it. Not even another dragon. Carefully he drew on his magic, opening his great maw. He waited for the right moment, when the witches had a ‘holy shit’ moment of panic before turning and running. None of them were facing him.
Now, he said coldly to Justin. Justin’s flame might be ice, but so was Nick’s fury.
Justin dropped the ward and Nick exhaled.
The fire didn’t just shoot forth in a stream under pressure. It spread, wide and wild, hungrily searching for it’s victims. It dodged boulders and trees, intent on the fleeing figures in front of it. Magical fire wasn’t mindless. It was strongly tied to the will of the caster, and Nick wanted those women dead.
He didn’t see the flurry of movement until it was too late.
Justin, however, did, throwing himself in front of the spell and absorbing the impact before it could hit Nick. He fell to the ground as a human, horrific burns covering his body.
“Shift!” the witch screamed at him, casting a considerable amount of magic his way. Even if he hadn’t already been bonded, it wouldn’t have been enough. With Melody’s magic protecting him, it almost tickled.
She gaped when he turned his burning gaze upon her. “No!” she screamed. “The black one challenged her. They said the black one challenged her. Shift!” she screamed again, throwing what had to be all of her magic at him. When it failed again, she stared at him in horror and gathered her magic again.
Nick drew in a deep breath, but before he could send his fire searching for her, she opened a portal and stepped through it, closing it quickly behind her. She was still somewhere nearby, but not close enough for him to blindly allow his fire to search for her.
Then Nick felt a larger portal open, this one he could tell went further away. The magic of it felt different. It flickered as many bodies began to pass through it. He couldn’t let them get away. They couldn’t be allowed to come at them again.
Swiftly he launched into the air, casting his magic out, searching.
There, behind the witch dorms. He flew over, as fast as he could, voices on the ground calling to him, but his attention was locked on the portal that even now was shrinking. He got there too late, the pop of magic as it closed sounding in his ear, leaving behind a dozen shifters, stranded.
Nick landed on the male witch dorm, several of the tiles on the roof crumbling under his claws and crashing on the ground. He threw his head back and roared his frustration to the air.
All sounds of battle ceased.
Well, yes, he probably had their attention now.
He threw up a ward around the shifters, trapping them in place, then flew back to where the majority of the fighting had happened.
Dead and dying shifters lay everywhere. He was pleased that none of them appeared to be students, but he wasn’t completely sure. Nick didn’t relax, however, until he saw Melody, safely behind her familiars, the others nearby. He hovered for a moment, then allowed himself to land on the ground, shifting as he did so.
“Your witches have left. You have been abandoned. Surrender and be shown mercy. If you wish your bond broken, ask for it and we will help you. Those wishing to die, head over there between the cottages and the woods. I have no qualms about taking your lives. Keep that in mind if you decide to cause us further trouble.”
There was a beat of silence, then all across the battlefront, beasts shifted. Their human forms were skeletal, wasted away. Hopeless eyes stared at the ground, and many collapsed from injuries that were not sustained in the battle.
Bestia hadn’t bought their best fighters. They’d bought the ones on the brink of death. They weren’t a risk, there was no loss if they died. If they succeeded, even better. It made him sick to think of Bestia’s callous disregard for life. For people.
For no matter how much witches claimed that shifters were little better than beasts, they were still people, with a rich culture and heritage. It was witches like the ones in Bestia that were the barbarians.
“What is the meaning of all this?” a strident voice cried out, as they were beginning to sort through the dead, injured and prisoners.
The provost stood at the edge of the battle, blood streaming from her nose and ears, her familiar cowering behind her. He had an open cut across his cheek and he shied away from her when her movement carried her near. When Nick looked closer, he saw the imprint of her ring on his face. She’d done that to him. Backhanded him hard enough that his skin had split open. Only his dragon sight allowed him to see the detail, and he knew she’d deny it. It only confirmed his low opinion of her.
Mrs Hardinger strode forward. “We were attacked, provost. We tried to reach you, but couldn’t find you, so a defence was manned without your presence.”
“Who said it was an attack?” she said, scowling.
Was she insane? Were the dead
