Cutting across the valley, Ilargo flew over Godrad’s back. To Gideon, upside down, the enemy was above him and well within the reach of his sword arm. Vilyra, however, raised one of her swords and parried the swift strike in a clash of sparks. Shooting straight over the undead dragon, Ilargo quickly corrected his orientation and banked to the left, bringing them back in line with Godrad.
They’re lining up for another attack run!
Ilargo agreed with Gideon’s assessment and spat a ball of fire across Godrad’s flight path. The undead dragon veered away to escape the flames and shot over the battle. Forced to race along the sloping banks of the southern mountain side, Godrad’s left wing skidded through the snow before he launched back into the air.
Angling up behind them, Ilargo homed in on his prey. Gideon felt the drag try and pull him free from his saddle as he held on with one hand. In the other, his Vi’tari blade grew hungry.
Gideon, Ilargo began as he climbed higher, those clouds are unnatural. They are forming too fast.
The old master narrowed his eyes at the black sky beyond Godrad and Vilyra. His human sight wasn’t comparable to his companions, but he could see the clouds moving in over the valley with great speed, swirling into themselves over and over again.
Gideon grimaced at the nightmarish spectacle. Flashes of lightning erupted within and thunder rippled through the mountains.
Malliath, he seethed.
High above The Vrost Mountains, Asher swore at the top of his voice. After being engulfed by a storm cloud, a staccato of lightning had erupted from within and blasted past his head.
Where did this come from? he demanded.
It’s Malliath! Inara replied, frustration in her tone. The spells etched into his body only come to life at a certain altitude!
Before the half-elf finished her explanation, Asher lost sight of both her and Athis, taken by the storm. The conditions worsened after that, with the temperature plummeting and torrents of rain drenching them. The lightning increased, as if the clouds were at war, their bolts hurled across the heavens.
Avandriell banked towards Athis’s last location but found no trace of them. I can’t see anything! she fumed.
Asher shared her exasperation, but it wasn’t Athis and Inara he was searching for. Somewhere in this gargantuan storm was its equally gargantuan maker.
Your spell is slipping, Avandriell warned him.
The ranger could feel the biting cold creeping in even as his companion told him as much. He recited the spell Gideon had taught him, going through the ancient words a couple of times before enforcing them with his will. A sensation of warmth swelled from within him and pushed the cold away. Now he just wished he knew a spell to keep the rain out of his eyes.
Avandriell’s muscles suddenly tensed, giving Asher a fraction of a second to interpret her immediate action. He interpreted wrongly. Avandriell tucked in her left wing and her entire body followed. The ranger should have leaned with her, keeping them streamlined as one, but he shifted his bodyweight in the opposite direction. Having instantly lost his grip on one of the handles, Asher’s legs took off into the sky and tried to take the rest of him with them. It was then, in that desperate moment, that he saw them.
Duelling gods.
Athis and Malliath thundered past, locked in a battle of claws, fangs, and beating wings. Lightning flashed all around them as their blood was added to the rain, their tails whipped around to club the other, and their Riders hurled spells of destruction through it all.
In the same moment Asher witnessed their collision of wills, he lost sight of them altogether. Avandriell dived down through the cloud and arched her back to ascend once more, giving the ranger a few seconds to find his place on the saddle again.
I sense doubt in you, she blurted on her way up.
Is that really a fight we can get in the middle of? Asher voiced his concern as plainly as he could.
It’s the only fight worth getting in the middle of, Avandriell countered.
I’ve spent most of my life assessing opponents, Asher told her, his head close to the saddle. I know fights I can’t win.
Avandriell flew through a pocket in the storm clouds, offering them a larger vista. Is that fear I detect in your voice, Ranger?
Asher groaned - she had too much of her mother’s confidence in her, confidence earned after years of fighting for her order. Don’t confuse fear with weakness; it’s kept me alive and my enemies dead for decades.
I have seen your memories, Avandriell replied, banking to the west to continue her hunt. I have seen you acknowledge certain death and still throw yourself into the fight.
I’ve earned the right to go with my gut and trust my skills and experience to claim victory. You’re up here with nothing but Thessaleia’s memories of battle. There’s a difference!
Avandriell spared a moment to lay a single golden eye on him. Remember who has the wings, she quipped. Her attention was quickly snatched by a glimpse of Athis and Malliath, one giving chase to the other. So quick was their passing, however, that Asher could only guess at who was winning.
Can you speak to Athis? he asked.
No, Avandriell answered, flying towards them. They’ve closed off for battle.
Asher was processing the inevitable fight between them all, visualising it as he did before most violent encounters. How exactly are we going to get in the middle of this? he questioned. Their size alone increases our chances of being swatted out of the sky by either of them.
Avandriell pierced the next cloud, missing an explosion of lightning by a mere second. As I said; I’ve seen your memories. Combined with my mother’s, I see only one way of striking at our enemy.
That sounds like a violent combination of memories to call upon, Asher opined. Before
