The battle raged on for several minutes, flares of fire and gusts of wind brushing through as Claire and Faye cast spells and warriors on both sides used their crystal shards to cast weaker spells. Auron grew anxious on his dragon. We have dragons. They don’t. That alone should bring us into the fight. I have trained for such a day. I—
“You want to fight, don’t you, Auron,” General Mengolus said. “I understand the urge. There’s nothing quite like the cries of thousands of dying men, just begging for an additional man to join in the bloodshed. You think you can make a difference. You think that by the grace of Tritoch, you can end the war against the Magi Rebellion once and for all. You believe you can take down the Quin sisters… but let me assure you. You need more training.”
“More training?” Auron asked, with a tone far more defiant than he had intended. “Lucius, I have Tritoch. I don’t need training when I have a dragon that—”
“That would fall at the jaws of Diablos in a matter of seconds,” the general said with a smirk. “Yes, if we wanted to, we could easily end this battle now. But what’s the fun in that?”
Auron snorted, his frustration getting the better of him. Despite being only seventeen, Auron had had plenty of sword training over the last half-decade and could handle his own against most soldiers. The general would crush him, but he wasn’t fighting Lucius. He would fight a weakened enemy on its last stand.
If it became too much, he could retreat. It would look cowardly, but Auron didn’t care for appearances—he cared for the practicality of an action. And living to carry on the Garland Kingdom mattered far more than dying unnecessarily. This is my chance to prove my worth for the throne. Prove to my father I am not the failure he says I am.
“Father,” Auron said flatly. “Let me go. This is a chance for me to get battle experience in a low-stress situation. We are going to win this battle. I know we are! I’ll stick to riding Tritoch if it matters that much. I won’t engage in sword combat.”
He looked at his father, who looked back at him. Though he was in his fifties, his father looked much older, the stress of the kingdom and the constant drinking he indulged in wearing on his body. His skin rarely looked healthy, and he had more lines on his face than Ultimus had scales.
“And risk losing my only heir in a battle well assured of victory?” he said, the word “heir” said with a certain disgust. “Nonsense. I have fought far too long to ensure peace among our people by wiping out this faction. General Mengolus has come tantalizingly close to eradicating the Magi Rebellion, only for poor luck to strike. I will not suffer any more casualties in doing so, most especially you.”
Auron maintained a disgusted eye contact with his father before groaning as he looked away. He dismounted Tritoch and walked about fifty feet ahead. His sword clanked against his armor, a reminder of the weapon he could not use. He looked back and saw smoke emerging from Tritoch’s nostrils, also a reminder of what he could not put into action. They’re never going to give me the chance to do battle. Never. Not until they die…
I have to take it for myself.
Auron slowly trudged back to Tritoch, playing the part of a defeated-but-accepting son. His father knowingly nodded, while the general shrugged with a casual, skin-crawling grin on his face.
“Our dear goddess Sera has finally instilled the wisdom in you, it seems,” his father said. “If not me, then listen to the goddess.”
If she exists.
That I definitely can’t say out loud.
“Sera has shown us the light and the way,” Auron said. “I would never defy her wishes.”
But she didn’t wish for me to stay here. If she cares to wish for such things. Why a goddess that once supposedly saved the world from annihilation would care what a seventeen-year-old thinks is beyond me.
Yet when Auron reached Tritoch and sat back on the beast, he did not compel the dragon to fly ahead. He knew his father and Lucius would watch him and pin Tritoch down if he tried to escape. Instead, he waited for when the two of them would engage in conversation, but for more than a few lines—the opening might be a ploy by Lucius to get Auron to misbehave. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
The cries still continued, the battle seeming to take far longer than expected. Auron remembered his father had said before leaving that their royal presence marked this being more of a ceremonial battle instead of a dangerous one, but such a battle should not have taken this long. He thought of dismounting and looking further on, but held back. As long as people screamed, there would be a battle.
“You really want the girls alive?” his father asked. “I would think a force like them would be best left to the jaws of Ragnor in the afterlife. For what they’ve put you through.”
Auron turned to see the other two men now looking at each other. Just keep talking.
“They deserve a fate far worse than death from a soldier’s sword,” the general sneered. “I have some special, intimate plans for them.”
Auron leaned toward Tritoch’s ears, doing his best to make the older men’s conversation sound like a blur and not the distinct words he had so far shuddered through.
“When I pat your neck twice, I want you to fly to battle, OK?” he whispered.
“With all respect, Sir Auron, I do not believe such a tactic is a good idea,” Tritoch said back, using telepathy to speak as all dragons did.
“It’s not a question of whether it’s a good idea,” he said quickly.
“If I may ask then, Sir Auron, what is it a question of?”
“Just…” Auron said, his voice trailing off. It didn’t matter how good or bad it was. “Just do it, OK?”
Tritoch snorted, and Auron glanced over at the other two, but none seemed particularly attentive to him.
“I do as you command, Sir Auron. And I will do it to the fullest.”
“You’ll be rewarded with a fine hog when we get back, Tritoch,” Auron said, patting his neck gently.
But Auron had forgotten his own words from seconds ago, and Tritoch dashed into the wind, roaring with a mighty cry that would reverberate across the battlefield. Auron nearly fell off but kept his legs wrapped around Tritoch’s neck.
“Auron!” the king said, calling his son’s name like a curse, but Auron ignored it.
He instead focused on the rush of cool air brushing against his face, the stars seeming to come closer to him, and the sensation of Hydor’s gravity pulling down on his stomach harder, making him feel heavier than he really was. His ears rattled with the cry of Tritoch. He let out a cry of joy and raised his right fist in triumph, then quickly placed it back on the harness when Tritoch descended and Auron felt himself lighter than a dragon’s scale falling to the planet.
“You’re going way faster than you ever have, Tritoch!” Auron screamed.
“Such a speed is necessary in the course of battle, Sir Auron. And I believe I have gone this fast before. If you remember—”
Auron almost laughed but regained the necessary composure when the battlefield beneath him came into view. There were dozens of fires, most, to Auron’s horror, on his side, but the frightening number of embers was made up by the number of dead bodies on the rebellion’s side, their robes and bodies resting in pools of blood that almost blended in with the rocky, barren land underneath them. The tents of the outpost were destroyed.
As he got closer, he could see that his side still had a great number of men, but the Magi Rebellion’s magic made it difficult for them to advance and kill them. Maybe a dozen enemies remained, and Auron saw his chance. The soldiers down below could not advance, but there was no way in Auron’s mind they could combat a dragon. Tritoch’s flames could end this battle for good. He would get the glory of having ended the magi threat permanently.
Auron guided Tritoch toward the Magi Rebellion.
Tritoch reared its head back.
“Fire!”
Tritoch’s head lurched forward as a giant column of fire burst from his throat, the column wide enough to incinerate two adults standing side-by-side. Auron felt the heat of his dragon’s flame, and he nearly choked on the black smoke that came with it. The dragon pulled up just before crashing to the ground, and Auron again shouted in triumph as he looked down to see only the crystal-equipped swords of the enemy below.
“Do you see this, father? Do you see what I am capable of?” he shouted as Tritoch raised him back up, the heavy sensation returning.
“I do think he can see you, Sir Auron. I—”
“It’s metaphorical, Tritoch,” Auron said.
Auron guided the great beast back for another pass. Less than ten enemies now remained. Less than ten enemies before they finally had the tranquility his kingdom had long striven for. Less than ten deaths before the people of the Garland Kingdom could live without fear.
“Let’s do it again, Tritoch!”
But then Tritoch suddenly froze, and only a small puff of fire emerged, so small it would’ve looked pathetic if a human had produced it.
“Tritoch?!”
“Magic of… some kind, Sir Auron.”
Then Tritoch suddenly jerked forward. Auron tightened his grip on the harness, but the immediate change in speed was so dramatic and unexpected that Auron was thrown from the dragon’s neck, hanging by just his harness. Tritoch went lower to the ground.
“Get us out of here, Tri—”
But before he could finish, Auron felt like something had yanked at his feet and pulled him off. Auron fell from the dragon and collapsed on the ground, a fall of twenty feet that left him groaning and writhing in pain. His vision was blurry, and he could barely hear anything.
He certainly felt the strong kick that went into his spine.
He yelled out in agony and rolled away from the kick, coming to his knees and gasping for breath.
“The prince on his knees before me. How unexpected.”
He looked up and gasped at the sight.
It was their leader, Claire Quin.
