Molten coals scowled the fireborne and fleeing Wayfork army.
Wyvern scowls, all three red like the fog. Elvish chants echoed, and two swooped atop the fireborne army, spewing bright green flames.
Nathan commanded his wyvern above Wayfork's forces, the army itself trying to form walls. He spoke the old tongue, of the mountains it was, and his wyvern spit a black beam of fire.
A beam so bright one would've believed it were the sun, and fire roared along the ground wild.
All directions, the black beam wrapped in white wiry star flame, spit up dirt hundreds of meters long. Earth cracked, thunder took the ground, and it was a dark roaring hell of blood and smoke.
He hadn't a clue where Larosa or Al were, but knew they must've been close.
Dany was still by his side, though she needed to find the blood sage.
"Whoever it is must be powerful," she said, shouting over falling rocks. "Can you fend for two armies?"
"On this gods' green fucking earth," he cursed, steam rising from his eyes, "I'd not see myself protecting Pyr yet again."
"Not him, his army," she said, kicking her horse's sides.
She gave him a quick look.
For Nathan, they said with their eyes.
Quick as she was gone, fire raged in the air, and smoke thinned. Ironite arrows soared, beaming with blue light, blessed by the light lord Rhea. Al skewered a wyvern through the eye, and it wailed diving towards the ground.
Atop the fireborne army, the wyvern collapsed, sparking embers as it gagged.
Nathan turned his wyvern, and the other, towards Al.
Smoke withered at every beat of wyvern wings. She had a clear shot, though Larosa shouted for Nathan to stop.
In old elvish he roared, fangs glistening against his wyvern's fire leaking jaws.
Al loosed, Nathan turned up, though the other rejuvenating wyvern took several arrows through the throat. It swept mere meters above Al and Larosa, the latter forced off her saddle.
While Nathan turned towards the scorched scattering clustered armies, he rode fast as his steed could carry him.
Carnage would've been a generous way of putting it.
Such chaos he'd yet to see since his first march through the warring lands. Man fought man, cursed or not, across the blackened earth. Those with Quarrath's mark, bound by blood thirst until the lady would have them dry, took spears through the chest, the most effective way of slaying them.
Soldiers, Wayfork or Creahllachian, were lost. A handful surrounded a foe, putting them to the slaughter, before searching for the nearest allies. Those not so lucky screamed, engulfed in black fire.
Others drove with spear, sword, or axe, splitting open bellies or guts. One put down another, then the one was slain by another yet to be seen. Backstabs weren't uncommon, and he rode past a pair of soldiers battering a downed knight, crushing a full helm with maces.
Rejuvenators rushed all sides, some dropping weapons to gnaw on the nearest throat.
As his steed ran over dozens of confused soldiers, a lone soldier was piled on by dozens of drooling throat leaking blood soldiers. One bit the man's throat out, the others fought for suckling blood, and another cleaved off the man's sword arm before holding a bloody forearm above its mouth.
"Nathan!" He shouted at the sky. "Face me and put an end to this!"
The blood lord's wyvern turned.
Nathan's eyes were hot as his dragonborne's, and his voice was a low spit of thunderous blazes.
"Brother. You swore to fight by my side!"
"This look like a fight?" He spat, Nathan's wyvern descending.
'Dammit Al, I know you can get him from here.'
INCOMING! INCOMING!
He hesitated.
Nathan's wyvern breathed black waves, something so hot he felt flames licking him over a hundred meters in the air. His steed whimpered, darting away, though it was no use.
Flames scorched the steed, he fell from his saddle, and the writhing black flames took him at once. Ironite covered him from head to toe, but he was cooking like a poor condemned in a brazier.
Smoke fille his lungs, but he fought himself up.
A hammer rang against his head. He swatted the fucker away, whoever was foolish enough to try him in the darkness.
Wyvern wings cleared some of the smoke, and he found himself amongst a dozen or so fireborne soldiers. Rejuvenators surrounded them, the soldiers forming a small wall, and he unslung his flail.
Blood rained, his flail pulverizing any blood soldiers nearest to him.
He swung again and again and again and again, turning leather armored men to bloody chunks. It made little difference, as just when he was putting down the last of them, the slaughtered began to rise.
"Fuck!" He cursed, his flail arm tiring.
Strong as he was, he wasn't close to the Bane of Razelael he was before.
After casting aside his flail, promising to all the war gods he'd recover it later, he drew his hammer.
It was so light, yet he couldn't slaughter as quickly.
He took to the shield wall, using his greatshield as a wall for all the other soldiers. They cheered his name, weary as they were, thrilled to have the Champion of the Graves at their side.
"Save your fucking gay praise," he muttered, rejuvenators marching towards them. "Cover the rear!"
Arrows soared above.
Al couldn't bring down Nathan.
He rode his wyvern like Alreion, commanding spins and turns, but it wasn't the rider's skill alone. She was landing her shots easy enough, but just when the wyvern appeared weary, its eyes would reignite.
'Where the fuck are you Dany!'
Soldiers behind him yelped.
Spears thrusted in and out chests. Blood soldiers fell, some crawling on all fours to try biting at fireborne feet.
He stomped open skulls, rammed with his shield, and the lads to either side of him did their best. One was ripped away, dragged into a horde which tore his limbs off as he wailed.
Fire raged above.
Smoke trailed behind Nathan's wyvern, and it dove for Al.
He shouted, loud as he could over the clutter of steel, iron, and gnashing teeth.
At the last moment, the wyvern turned up, embers glittering the air around Al and Larosa.
He must've remembered the young master.
Atop his wyvern, Nathan growled, fighting an imaginary enemy. Flailing his arms, cursing at himself, the lad seemed to be going mad.
Rejuvenators froze.
Every single one of them dropped.
Blood puddles splashed, bodies falling like limp fish. Soldiers muttered and cursed, a few cheered, then a rapid lash of flame silenced the field.
A wyvern collapsed a few meters before he and his shield wall. Paracles stepped over the top of the beast, a long black smoking scar in its belly.
The feather sword glared at him but said nothing, looking into the sky.
Nathan was gone, far beyond the blood fog.
"Ought to gut you, and your soulless lot," Paracles said, leaping from the wyvern's belly.
He snorted. "Go fuck yourself, princess."
The feather man grinned. "You died."
"What else is new?"
"You fought the First Sword, foolery I could go on for a fortnight about, and now you're a cheap hollow of what you used to be. Not that it was much to begin with."
He stepped up to the best warrior he'd ever known, who had not a scratch.
"That your man?" He said, pointing to where Gravous still laid. "Didn't know you were accustomed to meddling with rapers?"
Parcales kept a blank stare. "He's no man of mine. Just a contracted killer, bound to the Phoenix law."
His hammer arm twitched.
Were he not so exhausted, he'd have tried one, maybe two swings if he were lucky. Paracles must've had some clue, as the feather sword put his scimitar to his throat.
"Whatever arrangements Gravous and Isaac had with the girl, I was no part of it," he admitted. "It pains me, but vows are taken, and no foreign sword can bre-."
"Fuck the vows," he spat. "Next time I see you in these lawless lands, I'm gutting you for the crows."
Parcales lowered his scimitar. "For your honor's sake, I hope you try."
Dany rode up to them, the head of a long pale skinned vampyre in her off hand.
She tossed the head on the ground, dismounted, then drove her greatsword through it. White flames engulfed the head, turning what was left of the vampyre to light smoke.
Neither Wayfork nor fireborne soldier raised a sword.
Fighting was done for the day, a long night ahead for both armies.
Her majesty of the gold bearing kingdom, Queen Rallyvor, rode with a few knights to meet Carl amongst the bloody field.
A truce was decided for a night, allowing both sides to burn their dead.
When he and Dand regrouped with Larosa and Al, the young master was silent, dry tears on her face with a shaking cross-star hand.
"The sage was stronger than the other," Dany said, rubbing her forehead. "Much stronger. It must've been drawing energy from something, or…"
"We'll talk later," Al said, her bow arm swollen, her off hand on Larosa's back.
He looked at the lass, tears filling her eyes again.
While the others joined Carl's party, his majesty welcoming them for the night, he made his way to Gravous.
Paracles didn't stop him, getting a few more kicks in, knocking the bastard brute's teeth out. Another hand raised, and the feather sword put a hand on his scimitar.
It was over, for now, he told himself.
He watched the sky, wondering what he'd say to the lad.
'I'm sorry. I'll start with that, brother.'